THE CAPTAIN IS WOUNDED
A few shots only were fired from either side during the course of the day, this apparently being done on the part of the Turks from pure bravado, as they generally showed themselves conspicuously, brandished their long guns over their heads, and shouted defiantly before firing. One of them, however, having been shot by a sailor armed with a rifle, the amusement ceased, and during the afternoon all was quiet. An anxious look-out was kept seaward all day. At five in the afternoon one of the sailors sang out, “Sail, ho!”
“Where away, Baldock?”
“About west-north-west I should say, sir, though I ain’t sure of my bearings here.”
Martyn went up to where the man was standing on a rock that projected eight or ten feet above the surrounding ground, a position which would have been dangerous had not the Turks been almost out of range.
“There, sir, do you see just under that streak of white cloud? it is a little black patch.”
“I see it, Baldock.”
“I believe it is the schooner’s gaff top-sail, sir; it is too narrow for a square sail.”