his rifle, and saw splinters shoot up from the gunwale, but nobody in the boat was hit. The frenzied blacks made the little craft leap forward. Chuma brought the ketch round, running as close to the wind as possible, but she made almost no headway in the direction of Moniz. Six or eight shots had been fired at the boat before it slipped round the stern of the schooner.
Chuma looked at his master for instructions. Already Moniz was hauling on his anchor.
"Keep right after him," Trent said savagely to the bo'sun; and Chuma spat on his hands to get a better grip on the wheel. "Joan," her brother added, "you'd better get down below. There's going to be blood and hair flying soon."
But Joan was in no mood to "get down below." The events of the last few minutes had been thrilling enough to stir all the adventurous nature within her. Moreover, only one shot had been fired at the Kestrel yet, and that did no damage. She stepped into the cockpit, where she was protected, but remained in a position to watch every move in the exciting game.
The moment the schooner attained steerage way it became apparent that Moniz was going to put up a fight. The men on both vessels took all the cover possible. Of Trent's three Kanakas, two already had their rifles ready. Chuma's attention was fully occupied in steering. Suddenly the schooner,
