“Speak softly, my man,” said the lieutenant, “and be all ready to fire again. I’m afraid they’ve been creeping up all round.”
“Not all round, sir,” said the sailor, “but a whole lot on this side, and them three shots drifted them. There was a regular rush as soon as the lads opened fire.”
“Good,” said the lieutenant. “But they may be coming on again. Stand fast, my lads, ready to fire at the slightest sound. I don’t know how they can stand it, Mr Murray,” he added, “for I feel as if my boot soles are being burned through.—Yes: what were you going to say—that yours are as bad?”
“No, sir,” replied the lad excitedly; “I was going to suggest that the men who fired should stand fast.”
“Why, of course, my lad; but why?”
“Because, sir, they can tell the direction in which they fired, and know the way in which the enemy retreated.”
“Of course, sir; but what good will that do?”
“It ought to be the way in which their friends are gathered, and the opposite direction to that in which we ought to retreat.”
“Good, my lad,” said the lieutenant, clapping the lad on the shoulder. “You’ll make a smart officer some day. I should not have thought of that. It may prove to be the way towards the shore. We’ll draw off at once. Oh!” he added. “If a good sharp breeze would spring up, to drive off this smoke!”
“But wouldn’t it set the remains of the fire blazing up again, sir?”