The next minute they were serious enough, for there was a burst of voices from very near at hand.
“Aim low, my lads,” said Mr Reardon. “You six in the stern-sheets, as near to where the shooting is as you can.”
The rifles were levelled, three of the barrels being passed over our shoulders. Then came the usual orders, and the pieces went off like one.
This silenced our pursuers for a few minutes, during which we continued our progress, snail-like at the best, for the boat in front looked like a slug.
“I’d give the order to them to draw aside and let us pass, Herrick,” whispered the lieutenant, who now, in this time of peril, grew very warm and friendly; “but—ah, that’s getting dangerous.”
For another volley from very near at hand rattled over us, and was answered by our men.
“What was I going to say?” continued the lieutenant coolly, “Oh, I remember! If we tried to get by them they might take the ground with all that load, and be stuck.”
“And it would be a pity to have to leave that load, sir,” I said.
“Velly best load—allee best silk!” cried Ching excitedly, “Good, velly good plize-money!”
There was a roar of laughter at this, and Mr Reardon cried—