But after a little show of excitement on board, Mr Rimmer stayed by the helm; while the two canoes, from north and south, with some twenty paddles on each side, made the blue water flash like diamonds, as they threw it up with their spoon-shaped implements, sending their canoes along at a tremendous rate.
“They’ll cut him off, they’ll cut him off,” cried Oliver, excitedly. “Oh, why don’t he fire at them?”
He paused breathless, watching the exciting scene of the lugger careening over, as she raced through the water.
“My word, she sails well,” said Drew.
“Splendidly,” cried Oliver. “But don’t, don’t talk about the boat. Look at poor Rimmer, he stands up there as if brave as a lion. I wish I hadn’t said that about him, and yet it’s true enough, he’s running away like a cur. But it’s no good, my friend, they’re too much for you; they’ll cut in just before you get to the opening, and be aboard of you like a swarm of wasps. Oh, Drew! it’s horrible!”
“And all our specimens, the work of months, gone.”
“Hang the specimens!” cried Oliver. “I’d give a hundred times as many to be on the lugger now with our guns. A few good shots, and we could save him.”
“Yes. Shall we fire now?”
“Pooh! Shall we throw a few handfuls of sand into the water, or two or three stones? Look! there they go; they’re going to drive their prows right into her, one on each side, and with their length, speed, and weight, they’ll crush in her planks like a matchwood box. I can’t bear, to see it. It’s horrible.”
“I can’t; but I must look,” cried Drew, piteously.