The scabbard may have shaken down, for the wind has got up, and the boat is feeling it; and if they mean foul play they could knock us on the head as we go out from under the low door.
"Hallo! What's that ?" The "that" was the falling of some heavy substance against the door.
"Those are the coils of cable, Hugh; they have blocked us in.

Go on striking that light; we can't push the door open now." Some more weight was thrown against the door, and then all was still.
Presently Hugh succeeded in striking a light--no easy task in the days of flint and steel--and the candles being lighted, they sat down to consider the position.
"We are prisoners, Master Rupert; no doubt about that." "None at all, Hugh.

The question is what do they mean to do with us.

We've got food enough here to last us with ease for a week; and with our pistols and swords, to say nothing of the duck gun, we could hold this cabin against any number." Presently they heard the men on deck hailing another boat.
"I suppose that is that rascal Fulke," Rupert said.

"I hope that I am not quarrelsome by disposition, Hugh; but the next time I meet that fellow I will, if time and place be suitable, come to a reckoning with him." There was a movement above, and then a bump came against the side.
The other boat had come up.
"Now we shall see what they are up to." Nothing, however, came of it.