This time there was a dull thud aft.
"Hulled, by God!" burst out the bluejacket.
"Torn my only pair of dungarees," said Jack coolly. "Rifle bullet clean through us."
"Not hurt, Jack?" asked Loyola piteously, her voice trembling.
"No fear, Lolie; just a graze, that's all."
"Chance shot!" remarked Bill. "What range is you sightin' at, Broncho?"
"Six hundred."
"Better make it five," advised Jack. "She's closed up on us a bit, but the sea and wind are moderating every minute. Tari, come and take the steering-oar. We'll bring all our battery to bear."
Whereupon the Kanaka changed places with Jack.
Seeing that he had utterly failed in his attempt to make the whaleboat heave-to, the marooner now ceased firing for a spell; but having put his hand in the fire, it was now too late to draw it out. It was his life against theirs now, and he crowded sail in pursuit with desperate purpose.