“Hurt, sir?” he said.
“No thankye, marine. Very quick and well done of you. There, Mr Herrick; now you see why I told you to look out.”
“The brutes!” I cried excitedly; “they’re not worth trying to save.”
“No,” he said; “but we must do it. I suppose they don’t believe much in the mercy they’ll get from us; so there’s no wonder. Look at that!”
I turned my head in the direction in which he pointed, and saw what he meant. Five men were clinging to a piece of floating wreck about fifty yards away, and three more left the plank to which they had been clinging as we approached, and swam to join them.
I looked at the first group, fully expecting to see them hold out their hands to help their comrades; but in place thereof, I saw one wretch, who occupied the best position on the floating mass of wreck, raise a heavy piece of bamboo with both hands, and bring it down with a crash upon the head of the first man who swam up.
“Yah, you cowardly beggar!” roared one of the boat’s crew. “I’ve marked you.”
“Nice wild-beasts to save, Mr Herrick,” said the warrant officer. “I feel as if I should like to open fire on them with my revolver.”
“It’s too horrible,” I panted. “Look, look, Mr Grey!”
“I’m looking, my lad,” said my companion. “Give way, my boys; let’s stop it somehow.”