“Only about bruises, sir. They seem to treat it as so much fun. I say, how that boat does sail!”
“Yes, and we can do no more here but keep steadily on. Yes, we can. Take a pull at that sheet, my lads, and flatten out the sail a bit.”
“Ay, ay, sir;” and the sail was hauled a foot higher, and the sheet tightened, with the effect that we raced along with the water parting like a broad arrow before our prow, so that we seemed to be sailing along in quite a trough, and at times I wondered that we were not swamped.
But it was very exciting, and, like the others, I forgot all about a few contusions in the intense interest of the chase.
I went forward again to where Tom Jecks sat on the port gunwale, which was formed of one bamboo carefully lashed on with strips of the same material, and as there was nothing else to do, I shaded my eyes from the nearly level rays of sunlight, and had a good look at the distant junks.
“Yes, sir, that’s them, sure enough,” said the coxswain. “Wish we was twice as many, and had a good-sized gun in the bows.”
“Why, it would kick the boat all to pieces, or sink her,” I said.
“Oh, that wouldn’t matter, sir.”
“But it’s some one else’s boat that we’ve borrowed,” I said, with a laugh.
“Ay, so it is; I forgot, sir. But we ain’t got a gun, and I’m afraid we can’t take them two junks alone.”