Our little boat was gravely overloaded.
In addition to our supplies, we were carrying five grown men, and three of them—Trelawney, Redruth, and the captain—were over six feet tall.
We took on water several times, and my pants and the back end of my coat were soaking wet.
"Trim the boat," the captain said. "Shift around and distribute the weight."
We were able to stabilize the boat, but all the same, we were afraid to breathe.
The tide was now causing a strong, rippling current that swept us off course, away from our proper landing place.
We needed some luck or we'd come ashore beside the shore boats, where the pirates might appear at any moment.
"I can't steer us toward the stockade, sir," I said to the captain.
He and Redruth were at the oars. "Can you row faster?"
"Not without flooding the boat," answered the captain.
The tide kept sweeping us westward until I turned the head of the boat east, but it was slow going in the direction toward the stockade.
"We'll never get ashore at this rate!" I called out.
"Keep us going upstream and avoid those boats," commanded the captain.
"Eventually, the current will let up a bit, and then we can dodge back along the shore."
"The current has lessened already, sir," said Gray, who sat at the bow. "We can ease up a bit, sir."
"Thank you," I said. We'd all quietly decided to treat Abe Gray as if nothing had happened—as if he had never been one of the mutineers.
Suddenly the captain gasped, "The cannon!"
I'd entirely forgotten about the ship's guns.
To our horror, we saw the five pirates on the Hispaniola busily removing the cover from the big cannon.
Not only that, but I realized the cannonballs and some powder had been left behind.
"Israel was Flint's gunner," said Gray hoarsely.
We headed for the landing place, and even though I could keep the boat steady, we dared not row any faster.
Unfortunately, this course displayed our broadside to the Hispaniola, and we offered a huge target for the pirates.
I could see that rascal Israel on the deck putting the cannonballs down the gun's neck.
"Mr. Trelawney," said the captain, "I need you to pick off one of those men—Mr. Hands, if possible."
Trelawney was as cool as steel while he prepared his gun.
"Now," the captain said, "easy with that musket, sir, or you'll tip the boat. Everyone stand by to trim her when he pulls the trigger."
The rowing stopped, the squire raised his gun, and we leaned over to the other side to keep the balance.
By this time, the pirates on the Hispaniola had turned the cannon toward us.
Israel, who was at the muzzle with the rammer, was the most exposed.
However, just as Trelawney fired, Israel bent down and the shot whistled over him.
It hit one of the other four pirates, and he fell with a cry.
His cry was echoed not only by his companions on board but also by a great number of voices from the shore,
as the other pirates came out from among the trees.
"The pirates are going toward the boats," I said.
"Row!" cried the captain. "We mustn't mind if we flood her now.
If we can't get ashore, we're done for."
"They're taking only one boat," I said.
"The crew of the other boat is staying on the shore to cut us off."
"It's not them I mind. It's the cannon," the captain said.
"There is no way they can miss us.
Tell us, Squire, when you have another chance at a shot, and we'll stop."
Meanwhile, we'd been making pretty good headway for a boat so overloaded, and we'd taken on very little water.
We were now close, and in thirty or forty strokes, we could beach her on a narrow belt of sand below the clustering trees.
The pirates' boat was still behind us, and the tide, which had so cruelly delayed us, was also delaying them.
The one source of danger was the cannon.
"I think I can pick off another man," said the squire.
"Hold!" the captain shouted, quick as an echo, and our boat stopped so fast that water poured over the stern.
A cannonball came toward us at that same instant, and the squire's shot missed.
Where the cannonball hit, no one could tell, but it must have gone over our heads and plunged into the water,
because its impact contributed to our disaster.
At any rate, our boat sank in three feet of water.
The captain and I got to our feet, but the other three went under and came up drenched.
So far, there was no great harm.
No lives were lost, and we could wade ashore safely, but all the food and supplies were underwater.
To make things worse, only two guns out of the five remained ready to use.
Instinctively, I'd snatched my musket and held it over my head, and the captain had wisely carried his over his shoulder.
But the other three were soaked.
We heard voices in the woods along the shore, and we worried we might be cut off from the stockade in our weakened state.
I also worried whether Hunter and Joyce could withstand an attack.
Hunter was steady, but Joyce was a polite house servant, not a man of war.
So we waded ashore as fast as we could, leaving behind the poor rowboat and half of all our powder and provisions.