“No, sir, I don’t think it is,” said Bob, “for it won’t frighten the niggers, and my gun would.”
The night seemed to have come on darker than ever, and the rocket stars shone with wonderful brilliancy as they descended lower, and lower, and lower, some even to reach the water before they went out, and just as the last was floating down, Ali, who was close to the two officers, suddenly started, grasped Bob’s arm, and exclaimed sharply,—
“Prahus!”
He was pointing with one hand down the stream, but on the middy gazing in the required direction it was too dark to see anything.
“I can see none,” he said. “Where?”
“Two prahus coming up rapidly,” said Ali; “be ready to fire.”
“Not so fast, young sir,” said the lieutenant. “Will that steam never be up? Roberts,” he cried, “touch the trigger of that life-buoy.”
The middy obeyed, and a life-buoy dropped over the side with a splash, a port-fire at the same moment bursting out into a brilliant blue glare, which, as the buoy floated down rapidly with the stream, lit-up the trees on either shore, made the water flash, but above all showed out plainly to all on board a couple of large prahus coming rapidly up the stream, the many sweeps out on either side making the water foam and flash in the blue light shed by the buoy.
“There!” said Ali excitedly, “they are Rajah Gantang’s prahus. Fire at them.”
“Not so fast, sir,” said the lieutenant. “I must first be sure that they are enemies.”