A fierce composure settled upon Wicks and Carthew,
their fighting second wind. They posted Tommy at the
fore and Amalu at the main to guard the masts and
shrouds, and going themselves into the waist, poured
out a box of cartridges on deck and filled the
chambers. The poor devils aloft bleated aloud for
mercy. But the hour of any mercy was gone by; the cup
was brewed and must be drunken to the dregs; since so
many had fallen all must fall. The light was bad, the
cheap revolvers fouled and carried wild, the screaming
wretches were swift to flatten themselves against the
masts and yards, or find a momentary refuge in the
hanging sails. The fell business took long, but it was
done at last. Hardy the Londoner was shot on the fore-
royal yard, and hung horribly suspended in the brails.
Wallen, the other, had his jaw broken on the main-top-
gallant crosstrees, and exposed himself, shrieking,
till a second shot dropped him on the deck.
This had been bad enough, but worse remained behind.
There was still Brown in the forepeak.
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