“Well, that was not my fault, man. We’ve had a rough time of it; but be off sharply, and as to the missing business, follow and catch the scoundrels, and I won’t say a word.”
“Oh, I say, Anderson!” protested the second lieutenant.
“Well, there, be off and I’ll see.” The second cutter’s sails were sheeted home, and she glided off without more being said, while at little more than half the rate the first cutter went on under oars, but well helped by the current; and they had not gone far down the winding river before the silence of the cane brake was broken by a dull report which made the two middies half rise from their seats by their leader.
“That means the Seafowl firing at the lugger to heave to, sir,” said Murray.
“May you be right, my lad,” replied Mr Anderson. “Step the masts, my lads, and hoist sail.”
The orders were obeyed, and sometimes catching the light breeze and at others helped by the sturdy pulling at the oars, the cutter sped on, her occupants hearing shots fired from time to time, and reading clearly enough that the occupants of the lugger, if it was she who was being summoned to heave to, had not obeyed, but were racing on and trying to make their escape.
This grew more and more certain as the time glided on, and Roberts went so far as to assert that he could tell the difference between the unshotted and the shotted guns which followed.
Then, to the delight of the two lads, the firing ceased, and as they sat anxious and excited, they compared notes and passed opinions, while the lieutenant sat sombre and silent, looking straight out before him, only uttering an ejaculation of impatience from time to time as the wind dropped in some bend of the river, or filled the sails again upon a fresh tack.
Only once did the lieutenant rouse himself a little, and that was when they came in sight of the place where the river forked and down which the second cutter had long passed. Murray pointed it out, while Roberts exclaimed—
“Of course! I remember that well now; but I had forgotten all about it before.”