A lantern flickered above the storm-apron and then swung in the break of the bridge-rail at the ladder-head, and I saw Harris moving something which hung limply as he dragged it behind the canvas.

There was a wrathful conference as the two of them inspected the body of the second mate, and as I watched I saw a lancelike tongue of fire, outside the halo of light cast up from the lantern, followed by the report of a pistol shot, which reached my ears after I had seen the flash, for the wind checked the sound.

On top of this came a ripping, rending noise and the figure of a man swung to the lower deck, carrying with him a portion of the storm-apron, which volleyed in the wind for a minute and then was swept away as he let go of it.

“There they go!” bellowed Harris.  “Come on, cap’n, we’ll git the hounds now,” and he led the captain down the bridge-ladder, Riggs still carrying the lantern, which swung crazily as he dropped three steps at a time.

“W’ere the bloody ’ell be ye, Bucky?” called a voice which I knew to be that of Long Jim.  “W’ere be ye, I s’y!  Ye missed ’im, ye fool.  Missed ’im dead.  Jolly nice mess ye made of it!  Were be ye, Bucky?”

“Shut yer bloomin’ face,” growled Buckrow.  “What if I did miss him?  It was you that spoiled my aim, falling against the lashings as ye did, so the blasted thing carried away with me and like to mashed my head.  What, with a fall like that.  Dropped my gun, too, and it’s broke or jammed.”

“Likewise I couldn’t ’elp it,” said Long Jim.  “Caught my blasted foot in a lashin’—­rotten sailcloth, that, Bucky.  Make a stand of it ’ere as they come on an’ we’ll git the two of ’em, Bucky.”

“My gun is jammed, I say,” said Buckrow.  “Come on below for now and find Thirkle and Red.  We’ll get another gun.”

They were coming toward me all the time, and behind them were Captain Riggs, still with his lantern, and Harris, uttering terrible threats of vengeance.

“Throw that cussed light away,” said Harris.  “Throw it away, cap’n, or they’ll wing us sure.  Cuss it all, cap’n, they’ll blow yer head off if ye pack that ’round with ye.  Throw it, can’t ye?”

“I can’t see!” wailed Riggs, who seemed to be confused.  “I can’t see, Harris.”

“‘Course ye can’t see with it shinin’ in yer eyes!  Throw it away, will ye?  Here—­now keep after me.”

Harris wrenched the lantern from Riggs’s hand and hurled it into the sea, and, as the briny spume closed over it, it went out with a spiteful, protesting hiss.

“’Ere’s w’ere we bloody well get the two of ’em,” said Long Jim, who was within a dozen paces of me.  “Give ’em the knives as they come along in the black, Bucky.”

“No knife-play for me with Harris—­he’s got a gun,” said Buckrow.  “Come along below, Jim, and let ’em go for now.  Quick, or the mate’ll have ye.  Thirkle said he’d have the fo’c’s’le by now.  He run the chinks out, him and Petrak.  Scuttled ’em aft.  Come below.”