He stood up, walked unaided to the side of the ship, and glanced ahead.
"Shouldn't we try to lower a boat, sir ?" he asked instantly.
"Wot's the use ?" growled Coke.

"Oo's goin' to lower boats while them blighters on the island are pumpin' lead into us?
And wot good are the boats w'en they're lowered?
They've been drilled full of holes.

You might as well try to float a sieve.

Look at that," he added sarcastically, as the side of the cutter was ripped open by a ricochetting shot, and splinters were littered on the deck, "they know wot they want an' they mean to get it.

Dead men tell no tales.