Suddenly Naoum turned with an exclamation. George looked at his companion, his tune gone from his mind, and all thoughts absorbed into a keen excitement. They were rounding a sharp bend, and Naoum's attention was fixed on the outer bank.
"What is it?" asked George, in tones of suppressed excitement.
Naoum turned sharply to him and waved his arm in the direction of the cabin. "Quick, below for your life! If your face is seen you are doomed."
It was too late. Just as George was about to dive below, there was a sharp report followed by the "plosh" of a bullet, as it dropped into the water just a few yards ahead of the vessel.
"Duck down under the bulwarks," said Naoum hurriedly, "they can't have seen you yet. The bank is lined with rebels," he went on, gazing hard through the gathering darkness. "Allah! but they mean to bring us to book!"
As he spoke there was a heavy rattle of musketry, and bullets flew in all directions around them. The crew sat huddled together in a place of safety, terror written in every line of their brown faces. Naoum alone seemed impervious to the danger, and watched every movement of the men on the bank.
"What shall we do?" asked George, with a set, determined look on his face that made his question seem superfluous. "We won't surrender," he added in emphatic tones.
"We'll run for it," was the quiet answer. "Their guns can't do us much harm. They couldn't hit a mountain."
George peered over the side at the bank.
"Hallo! what are they doing? Looks as if they were launching boats."