After a hundred yards’ running they again fell into a walk. Horace kept his eye upon Tarleton’s party. They did not seem so severely pressed, and had the advantage that their foes were on somewhat lower ground than they were. Presently a sailor came in from the left.
“Captain Martyn’s orders are that the two flanking parties are to fall back quickly to the path, then to double down the hill to that shoulder a mile below. You are to act as rearguard, and to follow close behind them.”
In two or three minutes the two flanking parties, taking advantage of cover which concealed them from the enemy, made a rush to the path. The body under Tarleton gained it first, and at once started down at the top of their speed. Martyn’s party were but a minute later. He himself paused till Horace came up at a run.
“We can go faster down this path,” he said, “than they can follow over the rough ground, and there are such a lot of them that they will jostle each other on the path, and won’t get along as fast as we shall. How are you feeling, Mr. Beveridge?”
“I am all right now we are going downhill, Martyn. It is only the climbing I can’t stand. This is really very exciting work, though I don’t like running away.”
“We will make another stand presently, but I wanted to be getting on. They will get stronger every minute, and we shall have to fight hard presently. Do you see that the schooner has gone?”
An exclamation broke both from Mr. Beveridge and Horace. In the excitement of the fight neither of them had thought of the schooner.
“There she is, five-and-twenty miles away to the northwest, with two Turkish frigates lumbering after her.”
The firing had ceased; the yells of the Turks rose loudly in the air, but they were fully two or three hundred yards in the rear.