“Ask him if he thinks we could rush through, and how far it is,” suggested Jack, suddenly.
“It would mean death. There are thousands of the enemy,” was the answer. “As to the place, it is not very far. I stole the boat last night and by dawn I reached this part. For some hours the stream carried me, for I would not risk the use of the paddle.”
“Twenty miles at least,” muttered Dick, staring out across the water.
“And too far to risk a rush. There is no moon to-night, Dick, and that would be against us, for if we steamed up, it would be at full speed, and we should come back at the same pace also. Well, for that we want light. There may be banks here and there. The risk of collision would be great. In short, I’m dead against it. Don’t think I’m funking; I’m not. We are here to gather information, and, of course, we would effect a rescue if possible. We are not authorised to act rashly, and endanger the whole expedition by making an attempt which is foredoomed to failure. In short, we are supposed to possess common sense and courage, and in the decision of this question it appears to me that it requires more courage to say, ‘no, it can’t be done; we must leave the poor beggar,’ than it does to stoke our fires and steam up the river at full speed.”
There was no doubt that Jack Emmett had placed the facts of the matter in a nutshell, and that it pained him to say what he had said. Dick knew him well enough now to be sure that his companion had, sufficient dash and daring for this or any other expedition, and he knew well, too, that if he, the leader of this little party, gave the word, the movement would be commenced without a murmur, and every effort made to carry it through to a satisfactory conclusion. But had he the right to give such an order? Might he risk the lives of all for one, and that one not an Englishman? Could he leave him to his fate, knowing that he only lay some twenty miles away?
“Impossible! I would rather risk anything,” he said aloud. “You are right, Jack,” he exclaimed, turning to his friend. “I am not justified in asking the men to join in such a dash—hair-brained attempt it would be called. Besides, this expedition is sent here for a purpose, and that is to gather news of the utmost importance. That is our aim and object in coming here, and we must keep it prominently before us. There is just one saving clause.”
“That is?” demanded Jack, breathlessly.
“That I have a subaltern, as I may call you. If I am shot, or fall ill, the launch need not return, as once before happened to us, on my account, I grieve to state. The launch would remain and carry out the work.”
“Quite so. But I don’t follow. I hope you won’t be shot. If you are, then, of course, I shall command, and it will be a case of the fortune of war.”
He might have been a Frenchman by his manner of shrugging his shoulders. His handsome, open face showed clearly that he disliked this conversation wherein the possible fate of his friend and commander was discussed.