Jack said nothing for a few moments. Then quickly—
“Who was it fired that shot?”
“Oh, never mind about who fired it,” said the doctor gruffly; but he picked up a double rifle lying against one of the thwarts, and mechanically opened the breech, drew out a spent cartridge, and thrust in another.
“Have your pieces ready, my lads. Half at the word cease rowing, aim, and fire. Are you ready, gentlemen? They’re coming on very fast.”
“Yes; all right,” said the doctor; and Sir John rose in the boat, rifle in hand, and gave the mate, who had spoken, a nod, and then he smiled as Jack rose up quickly and picked up one of the loaded pieces at his side.
But no one fired at the rapidly advancing canoes, which were crowded with men; for suddenly there was a deep roar from the yacht, a heavy charge of grape-shot ploughed up the water in front of the first canoe, and the paddling in both ceased.
Another shot sent the water flying over the second canoe, and as if animated by one brain, the paddles began to work again, not to send the vessels forward, but back toward the island; and five minutes later the boat was alongside the yacht.
The men sent up a hearty cheer as Captain Bradleigh held out his hand to assist Jack on board, and his words were almost drowned in the welcoming cries; but Jack heard him, as the warm grip retained his hand, and another pressed his shoulder.
“The best day’s work, my lad, we ever did. God bless you, and thank Him for giving you safely back.”
Five minutes later the boat was swinging to the davits.