“And the wisdom of our old and experienced warrant officers,” continued Murray.
“There,” said the midshipman, “look at that! Not a shot fired, and those two leading canoes abreast of us. There’ll be a massacre directly.”
“Bravo!” whispered Murray excitedly. “Wonderfully done! You miserable old croaker, wasn’t that splendid?”
A minute before, the lad who had remained cool and self-contained during what seemed to be a perilous time, had watched without comprehending the action of the forward guns’ crews, who, in obedience to the orders given by the first lieutenant, seized upon the capstan bars and stood ready to starboard and port, waiting for something anticipated.
Then as the Seafowl answered to her helm and Roberts was turning frantic with excitement as he felt that the savages were bound to be aboard directly, the sloop careened over from the force of the breeze when her course was altered, there was a dull crashing sound and her stem cut one long war canoe in two amidships, leaving the halves gliding alongside in company with some fifty or sixty struggling and swimming naked savages, some of whom began to climb aboard by the stays, others by the fore chains; but as each fierce black head rose into sight, there was a tap given by a well-wielded capstan bar, and black after black dropped back into the water, to glide astern, stunned or struggling, to be picked up by his companions in the second boat, which was being overtaken by others, bristling with spears, while the vessel was a cable’s length ahead and steadily increasing its speed.
“Now then, Dick, what about my calculation?” said Murray, giving his companion a poke in the side. “Pretty near, wasn’t I?”
“Humph! Luck—chance,” grumbled Roberts ill-humouredly.
“Of course! But wasn’t the captain right?”
“No; he ought to have given the savage wretches another lesson.”
“A bloodthirsty one,” said Murray. “Pooh! Don’t be such a savage, Dick.”