“ Israel was Flint's gunner,” said Gray hoarsely.
At any risk, we put the boat's head direct for the landing-place. By this time we had got so far out of the run of the current that we kept steerage way even at our necessarily gentle rate of rowing, and I could keep her steady for the goal. But the worst of it was that with the course I now held we turned our broadside instead of our stern to the Hispaniola and offered a target like a barn door.
I could hear as well as see that brandy-faced rascal Israel Hands plumping down a round-shot on the deck.
“ Who's the best shot?” asked the captain.
“ Mr. Trelawney, out and away,” said I.
“ Mr. Trelawney, will you please pick me off one of these men, sir? Hands, if possible,” said the captain.
Trelawney was as cool as steel. He looke
