“No; but several of the poor lads are wounded. There’s only one thing that would give me any comfort for my ill-luck, Roberts, and that is to hear—”
“There’s the ‘Startler’ a-talking to one, sir,” cried Dick, forgetting discipline in his excitement, as the boom of a big gun not very far-off met their ears. “There she goes again, sir,” he continued, as there was another shot, and another, and another, all showing that the captain had heard the firing and been prepared.
A couple more shots were heard, and then all was silent till the boat slowly drifted by the lights of the island, answering the sentries’ challenges, and then sighting the lights and open portholes of the steamer, to whose side they managed to struggle, answering the challenges as they approached.
In spite of all their efforts, it was doubtful whether the boat could have floated another minute, but on reaching the side the falls were hooked on, and she was slowly run up to the davits, with the water rushing out, the lieutenant then reporting his ill-success to the captain.
“Not one man killed, though,” he said.
“How many wounded?”
“Six, sir, but only slightly.”
“Mr Johnson, I hope the other boats have done better,” said the captain. “I’m afraid you will not get any promotion on the strength of this job.”
“No, sir,” said the lieutenant dolefully. “But did you sink either of the prahus?”
“Sink them, no,” said the captain, testily. “I don’t believe they were either of them touched; they went by us like the wind. There, go below all of you, and get into dry clothes.” The captain went forward to see that the look-out was doing its best; while the prahus were safely making their way to a mud creek, where the chiefs who commanded them felt that they could laugh at any force the English might send to redeem the failure of the past night; and to work such mischief in the future as was little imagined at the time.