As he did so he blew his whistle, and in a moment the hatch was back in its place and clamped down on each side with iron bars.
The sergeant had swung round at the sound of the crash, but Amos Green, who had waited for the movement, threw his arms about him and hurled him overboard into the sea.

At the same instant the connecting rope was severed, the foreyard creaked back into position again, and the bucketful of salt water soused down over the gunner and his gun, putting out his linstock and wetting his priming.

A shower of balls from the marines piped through the air or rapped up against the planks, but the boat was tossing and jerking in the short choppy waves and to aim was impossible.

In vain the men tugged and strained at their oars while the gunner worked like a maniac to relight his linstock and to replace his priming.

The boat had lost its weigh, while the brigantine was flying along now with every sail bulging and swelling to bursting-point.
Crack! went the carronade at last, and five little slits in the mainsail showed that her charge of grape had flown high.