"You are hurt, Billy?"
"Not's I know by," answered Billy, and stared about him.
"What's become o' the brown vermin?"
"They seem to have disappeared," said my father, likewise looking
about him.
"But what on earth has happened?" I persisted, catching him by the
shoulder and shouting in his ear above the roar of a second sudden
squall.
"I--blew up--the ship. Captain wouldn't listen--academical fellows,
these skippers--like every one else brought up in a profession.
So I mutinied and blew--her--up. He's wounded, by the way."
"Tell you what," yelled Billy, staggering up, "we'll be at the bottom
in two shakes if somebody don't handle her in these puffs.
Why, where's the wheel?"
"Gone," answered my father. "Blown away, it appears."
"_And_ she don't right herself!"
"Ballast has shifted. The gunpowder blew it every way. Well,
well--poor old John Worthyvale won't mourn it. I left him below past
praying for."
"Look here, Master Prosper," shouted Billy. "If the ship won't steer
we must get that mains'l in, or we're lost men. Run you and cast off
the peak halliards while I lower! The Lord be praised, here's Mike,
too," he cried, as Mike Halliday appeared at the hatchway, nursing a
badly burnt arm.
Pages:
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251