"What do you say?" he cried to Roger. "Evidently you haven't found the
money yet."
To us Roger said in an undertone, "Hold your fire." To Falk he
replied clearly, "You black-hearted villain, if you show your face in a
Christian port you'll go to the gallows for abetting the cold-blooded
murder of an able officer and an honorable gentleman, Captain Joseph
Whidden. Quid that over a while and stow your tales of piracy and mutiny.
Back water, you! Keep off!"
Here was no subtle insinuation. Falk was stopped in his tracks by the flat
statement. He had a dazed, frightened look. But Kipping, who had kept
himself in the background up to this point, now assumed command.
"Them's bad words," he said mildly, coldly. "Bad words. _But_--" he
slightly raised his voice--"we ain't a-goin' to eat 'em. Not we." All at
once he let out a yell that rang shrilly far over the water. "At 'em, men!
At 'em! Pull, you sons of the devil, pull! Out pikes and cutlasses! Take
'em by storm! Slash the netting and go over the side."
"Hold your fire,"--Roger repeated,--"one minute--till I give the word."
My heart was pounding at my ribs. I was breathing in fast gulps. With my
thumb on the hammer of the musket, I gave one glance to the priming, and
half raised it to my shoulder.
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