Читать книгу The Gentleman - Alfred Ollivant - Страница 31

"I'll lay I bag Fat George in the belly," said one, spitting leisurely, as he fingered his musket.

"I'll lay you don't then," retorted another.

"I'll lay you couldn't miss it," chipped in a wag.

There was a rumble of laughter, quickly hushed.

The boy among them sniggered, to vindicate his courage.

How brave they were! and what beasts! They made him sick, and filled him with admiration. He should like to be like that—to feel nothing; to see nothing; to loll up against the side and spit about, and make bad jokes, a minute before he took the life of a brother man. That was fine: that was manhood. One day, please God, he would be the same.

He peeped at the lugger. She was holding on, hard-driven, a long-boat with high-cocked nose tearing astern.

The big ship was bearing down on her like a hawk on a sparrow. It was bullying but O! was it not glorious? The old thrill, the thrill of thrills, incomparable, made him tremble. He was manhunting once more.

"He'll carry the sticks out of her," muttered one of the men. "Crackin along all sail—capsize or no."

"He may crack along," said another. "He's done. Black Diamond's done."

The sea flopped in the moon. Here and there a gathering swell hissed into foam. The Tremendous scarcely felt it; but the lugger lay over on her side, seams dripping, and thrashed furiously along.

Her crew, squatting along the weather gunwale, turned bowed and shining backs to the sloop.

Only the man at the tiller had seen her; and he made no sign.

The moon was on his face, black and white and bearded; and his eyes on the sloop.

"Calm chap!" whispered one.

"Plucky meat," replied another. "Guts like a lion on him."

"Which is Black Diamond?" asked the boy.

"Him at the tiller, sir—moon on his face. He's seen us. 'Tothers ain't—not yet."

The Tremendous crashed into a sea. The aftmost man on the lugger's gunwale turned.

He saw the Avenger towering over him, dark wings spread, snow-drifts spurting before her.

An awful horror convulsed his face.

"King's ship!" came a ghastly-screaming treble. "Put back, Diamond!"

The man at the tiller never stirred. One lightning arm flashed forward.

"Down, George!" came a voice of thunder. "I'm going through."

There was a flash in the moon; the smothered crack of a pistol; and a furious tumble of men aft.

"Gor! they're knifin him!"

"Their own skipper!"

"That's the Gap Gang!" rose in a groaning chorus from the bows of the sloop.