“Now, then, come ashore, and I will not be so severe with you.”
“Hark at that, now,” whispered Dinny to Bart. “It’s a baby he thinks ye, afther all.”
“Curse them! Fire then, sergeant,” cried the overseer. “No mercy now.”
“Down, dogs!” roared the man again. “Quick, there—fire!”
A rattling volley from close at hand rang out, and it was followed by utter silence, as if those ashore were listening.
“Curse your stupid fellows, sergeant! Why don’t you make them fire lower?”
“If they fired lower, we should have hit the dogs, sir.”
“Hang the dogs! I wanted you to hit the men. Now, then, fire again.”
There was the rattling noise of the ramrods in the barrels as the men loaded, and once more silence. The sinuous nature of the muddy creek had brought the fugitives terribly near to the dense brake; but Mary’s pole remained perfectly motionless, and there was nothing to be done but wait till the party moved on, when there would be a chance to get lower down towards the open sea; while, after the next quarter of a mile, the creek opened out into quite a little estuary dotted by sandbanks and islets of bamboos and palms.
“Now I have them!” cried the overseer, suddenly. “Bring a gun, sergeant. I can pick off that fellow easily.”