Above the ripple of the water and the sough of the wind in the trees the sounds proceeding from the nose of the Dutchman could be distinctly heard.
“He must have his sleep,” laughed Mr Pepson. “Did I not tell you that we must needs rely upon ourselves for protection? He is made for commerce, not for warfare.”
“And yet he did well last night. I’ll tell you what happened.”
They sat down on the tiny roof while Dick told how the bullet had struck his friend, and how the flash had showed him a dozen men rushing down upon them.
“That was an awkward position,” interrupted his friend. “I understand that I was lying in the water. Covered, in fact?”
There was a queer little smile on his lips, and he looked swiftly into Dick’s honest and open face.
“Yes. You had gone below the surface. I was stunned by the mishap. I thought it was all up with us.”
“With me, you mean. You could have bolted. The boat was close at hand.”
Dick flushed to the roots of his hair, and tore his hat from his head as if the weight troubled him. He stared at Mr Pepson in amazement, and then, seeing the smile, smiled back at him.
“You are chaffing me,” he said. “Trying to humbug me. You know well enough that no decent fellow would do that. You wouldn’t. I wasn’t going to desert a comrade who was down and helpless, particularly when there were such ruffians about. So I set to work as quickly as possible.”