“Because I thought you’d like to see it fust, sir. Yes, there she lies, just beyond that headland.”
“At anchor?” cried Poole.
“Can’t say yet, sir, till we’ve cleared that point; but she’s upon an even keel, and seems to be about her old distance from the shore. That must be the southernmost of them two great cliffs, and we are nearer the river than I thought.”
“Lay your backs into it, my lads,” cried Poole.
The gig travelled faster as the two strong men took the place of the tired lads; and as they rowed on it was plain to see that the gunboat was much farther from the point and shore than had been at first imagined.
“It would be awkward,” said Fitz, “if they sent out boats to try and take us, for they must see us by now.”
But the occupants of the gunboat made no sign, and when at last the Teal’s gig was rowed round the headland which formed the southern side of the entrance to the river, all on board could hardly realise how greatly they had been deceived by the clear morning light, for the gunboat was still some three or four miles away, and apparently fast upon one of the reefs of rocks, while from her lowered boats, crowded with men, it was evident that they were either busy over something astern, or preparing to leave.
“They must be hard at work trying to clear the screw,” cried Fitz excitedly.
“Can’t make out, for my part, sir,” replied the boatswain, while Poole carefully kept silence; “but it looks as much like that as ever it can, and we have nothing to mind now, for we can get right in and up the river long before their boats could row to the mouth.”
Poole steered close in to the right bank of the river, so as to avoid the swift rush of the stream, this taking them close under the perpendicular cliff; and they had not gone far before there was a loud “Ahoy!” from high overhead. Looking up they made out the face of Burgess the mate projecting from the bushes as, high upon a shelf, he held on by a bough and leaned outwards so as to watch the motions of the boat.