The crew gave a cheer, and the cutter almost leaped to their vigorous strokes, every man being now at the oars.
A minute or two later they were alongside, having nothing to fear from the half-sunken canoe, whose occupants were struggling to keep themselves afloat till they could urge the portions of the damaged vessel on to the sands.
“Quick, all of you,” cried the captain, “and look out for the arrows. What! wounded man! Here, two of you.”
A couple of the crew ran to him, and poor Ned was lifted over the side and borne down into the cabin.
“Keep in shelter, Jack, my boy,” cried Sir John, as he caught his son’s hand. “The arrows are coming in like hail. You are sure you are not wounded?”
“Quite, father; I’m all right,” said Jack, as he stepped on deck.
“Is Edward much hurt?”
“Here’s Doctor Instow, ask him,” said the boy, as the doctor came up out of the boat, the last man but those who were hooking on the falls, to be run up.
“Ned? I can’t say yet. Don’t stop me. I’m not sneaking out of the fight, Meadows. I must go down to the poor lad.”
“Speared?”