The firing kept on, the dull thud of the gun being preceded by the flash, and at each notification of a shot the men gave such a tug at the stout ash blades that they bent, and the boat leaped through the water.
“Hurrah! Morning,” cried Archy, and the men answered his remark with a cheer, for there was a grey light coming fast now in the east, but, to the utter astonishment of all, the cutter did not become visible.
They gazed round excitedly as the light broadened, but there was no cutter where they expected she would be, but ten minutes later, dimly seen as yet, they made her out miles away under full sail, in chase of a long, low, three-masted lugger, at which she was keeping up a slow and steady fire.
The men cheered as the direction of the boats’ heads was changed.
“Pull, my lads, pull!” cried master and boatswain. The men responded with another cheer, and the water rattled under their bows.
“It’s a long pull,” cried the master; “but as soon as she sees us, she’ll run down and pick us up.”
“Hurrah!” shouted the men.
“Well done, Mr Brough, well done!” cried Gurr excitedly. “Think of him, with hardly a man to help him, sailing the cutter, and keeping up a steady fire like that. Oh, Mr Raystoke, why aren’t we aboard?”
“Ah, why indeed? There she goes again. I say, Mr Gurr, won’t she be able to knock some of her spars overboard.”
“I wish I was aboard the lugger with an axe,” growled Gurr, shading his eyes; and then, placing his foot against the stroke oar, he gave a regular thrust with the man’s pull, a plan imitated by the boatswain on board the other boat.