“You needn’t be so hard upon me, captain; it was not my fault.”
Lieutenant Johnson turned upon him angrily, and was about to say something severe, but Bob’s injured look disarmed him, and he held out his hand.
“I’m hipped, Roberts,” he said, and hardly know what I say. “Steady, there; steady!”
This to the man at the wheel as they were rounding a point; but the order had a contrary effect to what was intended; it flurried and unsteadied the sailor, who took a pull too much at the spokes, and before anything could be done to check the steamer’s speed, her sharp bows had cut deeply into the muddy bank of the river, and she was aground.
“Was anything ever so unlucky?” cried the lieutenant; and then he gave order after order. Guns were swung round so as to sweep the bows should the Malays try to board them from the shore; the engines were reversed; the men tramped from side to side of the deck; everything possible was done: but the steamer remained fixed in the mud without a possibility apparently of getting her off.
The jungle was of the densest all around, and the men approached the bows with caution, for the head of the steamer was right in amidst dense foliage, and it was quite probable that any number of the enemy might be concealed and ready to hurl spears at the slightest chance.
Neither seeing nor hearing signs of the enemy, the lieutenant at last ordered Roberts to try and land and see if the Malays were near. “It’s a risky job, Roberts,” he said kindly, “but you must take it. I cannot leave the steamer.”
“Oh, I’ll take it,” said Bob, coolly, and examining his revolver, he drew his sword, and telling the men to follow, ran forward, scrambled over the bows, and leaped ashore, the men imitating his example, for the bank was only some six or eight feet below the bulwarks.
But though they were landed there was little more to be done, unless they had been provided with billhooks to clear the way. The undergrowth was nearly as dense as a hedge, and after trying in half-a-dozen different ways, and only penetrating some twenty or thirty yards, they were obliged to give up, drenched with perspiration, their flesh full of thorns.
“I’ve got something biting my legs horribly,” cried Bob, turning up his trousers, and then giving a shudder of disgust, for half-a-dozen leeches were busy at work making a meal upon him, and several of the sailors were in the same predicament.