Chapter Sixty.
Signals of Distress.
The night passed on board the steamer without any alarm, and at daybreak steam was up, and with the men at their quarters and every gun loaded, they set off on their return journey.
As the lieutenant said, it was no use to murmur about their misfortune; all they could do was to try and make the best of matters by getting back as soon as possible.
He could gladly have gone on at full speed, but caution forbad it. There were mudbanks and turns innumerable; and even going slowly, the length of the vessel was so great that again and again they were nearly aground upon some shoal, or brushed the overhanging trees with their bows.
Of one thing the lieutenant felt certain—that they had not been led into this narrow river without some plans being made for keeping them there. Therefore every man was on the alert for an ambush, or something that should stop their further progress towards the mouth of the sluggish stream.
It was terribly slow work, and Lieutenant Johnson stamped with impatience as he saw how poorly they progressed, speaking snappishly to Bob Roberts when the latter ventured upon some observation.
This went on three or four times, when, feeling hurt by a sharp remark on the lieutenant’s part, Bob exclaimed,—