CHAPTER NINETEEN.
HOW THERE WAS ANOTHER ENEMY TO FIGHT.
It was rapidly growing dark as Billy Widgeon went slowly up to Mark.

He limped as he walked, and there was a bandage round one of his short legs.
"I've been having a look at that there monkey, Mr Mark, sir," said the little sailor.

"He's just come out of his hole, looking scared because he thought the fellows was shouting at him.

He came down over the stern and in at one of the windows, and he's been a-making no end of fuss over old Bruff's crocodilly leg, and he doesn't seem to understand it a bit.
But I say, sir, what are we going to do next?
Some of the chaps is rather bad." "Poor fellows!" said Mark.

"I suppose we shall have to fight again." Billy made no answer, for another engagement seemed terrible enough to think of now in cold blood, and they were soon after joined by Small, who said nothing, but held out his hand to Mark, to give the lad's fingers a long silent pressure, which seemed to him to mean only one thing, and that was good-bye.
After a time the captain's voice was heard to summon the men, and Small was sent to relieve Gregory; but the mate declined to leave his post, and no attempt was made to enforce obedience.
Then half the men were placed at the barricade, and the weapons of the other half were placed by them, while these latter were drawn up by the saloon windows.
"What's we going to do ?" whispered one of the men to Mark; but he could give no answer.
It was now dark, even darker than the previous night, but a slight breeze was beginning to rise in fitful gusts, and there was now and then the ripple of water against the stern.
"You've made up your mind then ?" said the major.
"Yes," replied the captain firmly.