“Good! But let’s look to the weapons before we begin.”
They examined the pistols and found there were four of them; they were ready charged and primed; the cutlasses were of the short-bladed “hanger” type of the British navy.
“Sure, what makes people turn out such weeney little blades?” said Longsword. “Faith, Master Ethan, these are not a man’s size at all, at all. I like a sword a good three feet long, and wid some weight in it, faix.”
“I suppose you’ll have to do with what we can find here, old fire eater,” smiled Ethan. “These cutlasses are not so bad for close work. They are short, but remember the Romans conquered the world with a short sword.”
“If they’d had long ones they’d done the job in half the time,” said Longsword.
They headed for the schooner and began to pull swiftly, but softly. On shore all was silent, and darkness still hung pall-like over the water, though the heavy clouds were visibly thinning before the wind, and here and there a silver spot glimmered among them.
The lights of the schooner became more and more distinct; and at length they were under her bow, clinging to the chains, and listening. The low murmur of voices came from the after part of the vessel, but forward all was still.
“It’s going to be easy work,” said Ethan.
They made fast the jolly-boat to the chains, then thrust the loaded pistols into their belts. Ethan, with a naked cutlass between his teeth, went up the side like a cat; and in a moment the tall Irishman stood beside him on the schooner’s deck.
“Ahoy,” suddenly called a startled voice from the after deck. “Who’s that for’ard?”
They maintained silence; then came the voice once more.
“I don’t see anything,” said a second voice, after a pause.
“Well, I do. Some one came over the side just now; it looked like two, but I can see only one, now.”
“Better go below, and sing out to the skipper.”
“Not till I’m sure about what or who it is.”
Footsteps advanced; from behind the cabin top two forms came into view.
“I’m right here, wid ye,” answered Longsword in the same low tone.
The sailors of the schooner had advanced no more than a dozen steps when the two desperate boarders bounded upon them, and the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against the forehead of each.