“Boats separating,” I shouted.
“Go on.”
“Pulling hard for the junks.”
“Yes, go on; report everything.”
I needed no orders, for I was only too eager to tell everything I saw.
“Two boats have gone to the right; two to the left.—More firing from the junks.—Boats separating more.—Two going round behind.—Both out of sight.”
By this time, in addition to the sharp reports of the small guns on board the junks, the sharper crackle of matchlocks and muskets had begun; but so far I had not seen a puff of smoke from our boats.
“Are our men firing?”
“No, sir; the two boats I can see are pulling straight now for the junks.—Now the water splashes all about them.”
“Yes? Hit?”