“Ay, ay, sir.”
“That’s right. Now then, lay your backs to it, and row with all your might.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“What are you going to do?” I said huskily.
“Run for it. The junks can’t follow against this tide. We must row out into the river. Keep your fire till I give orders. They may not try to stop us. If they do, I shall try and ram one. We have four barrels for the other, without troubling the men.”
“You don’t think it’s a false alarm?”
“No,” he said sternly; “the falsity lies somewhere else.”
“He means Ching,” I said, but there was no time for much thought, not even to see a great deal. The men grasped the situation as soon as the boat’s head was straight, and Mr Brooke took the tiller in his left hand, his gun in his right, and cocked it, while I followed suit.
Then I felt disposed to laugh as Ching made a dive down, and began to crawl under the thwarts among the men’s legs, but the laugh changed to a serious grin as Mr Brooke steered to pass between the two boats, when the course of one was changed so as to throw her right athwart our way, and quite a dozen men rose up in each, armed with clumsy swords, yelling at us, and dancing about as they gesticulated and seemed to be trying to frighten us back.
“Very well, if you will have it,” said Mr Brooke between his teeth. “Be ready, my lads. Cutlasses, if they try to board.”