“No, sir, but the junks are more out in the middle of the stream. I can see them quite clearly now, away from the trees. They are crowded with men, and—”
“The boats—the boats?”
“No, sir;—yes, hurrah! There they go, sir, all abreast, straight for the junks.”
“Ha!” came in one long heavy breath from below, as if all left on board had suddenly given vent to their pent-up feelings.
“How far are they away from the junks?” cried Mr Reardon.
“About two hundred yards, sir; you’ll see them directly.”
“Yes, I see them now, sir,” cried Barkins, who was a little way up the mizzen-shrouds, where I had not seen him before.
“Silence!” cried the captain sternly. “Go on, Mr Herrick; report.”
“Smoke from the junks, sir—white,” I cried, and the words were hardly out of my mouth when there came the report of guns—first one and then another; then two together; and I fancied that I could see the water splashing up round about the boats, but I could not be sure.