“What’s that?” cried the lieutenant.
“The lugger, I think, sir,” whispered the middy. “I just caught sight of one of her masts.”
“Hist! Silence!” said the lieutenant. “Dip as quietly as you can, my lads. Two of you there, Titely and Lang, be ready to fire, and drop the steersman if they don’t lower their sails.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” came back, in a whisper, followed by the clicking of musket locks, and the oars dipped into the water with scarcely a sound.
“I can’t make her out, Mr Murray,” whispered the lieutenant. “Are you sure that you were not deceived?”
“Certain, sir,” was the reply.
“I saw her too, sir,” put in Roberts, “but the trees were very thick and there’s a big bend there.”
“Humph! Yes; the stream winds and doubles upon itself like a snake. You, Tom May, you’ve got a voice like a speaking trumpet; be ready to hail them, and if they don’t lower their sail directly, fire, as I said before, at their steersman.”
The minutes which followed were full of excitement, and then a low murmur arose, for one of the men forward turned to draw the attention of the officers in the stern sheets to the head of a mast which was seen for a few moments passing along above the bushes apparently at the edge of the river, and only some five hundred yards from where the cutter was gliding swiftly down.
“We shall do it, my lads,” whispered the lieutenant to the middies.