The shock threw Alano off his feet, and he tumbled against me, sending us both sprawling. I lost hold of one of the oars, and at the same moment an alarm rang out—a sound which filled us both with fear.
[CHAPTER II.]
THE ESCAPE FROM THE GUNBOAT.
“We are lost!” cried Alano, as he sought to pick himself up. “Oh, Mark, what shall we do?”
“The oar—where is that oar?” I returned, throwing him from me and trying to pierce the darkness.
“I don’t know. I—— Oh!”
Alano let out the exclamation as a broad sheet of light swept across the rain and the waters beneath us—light coming from a search-lantern in the turret of the gunboat. Fortunately the rays were not lowered sufficiently to reach us, yet the light was strong enough to enable me to see the missing oar, which floated but a few feet away. I caught it with the end of the other oar, and then began pulling at the top of my speed.
But all of this took time, and now the alarm on board of the war vessel had reached its height. A shot rang out, a bell tolled, and several officers came rushing to the anchor chains. They began shouting in Spanish, so volubly I could not understand a word; and now was no time to question Alano, who was doing his best to get out a second pair of oars which we had, fortunately, placed on board at the last moment. He had often rowed with me on the lake at Broxville; and in a few seconds he had caught the stroke, and away we went at a spinning speed.