The arrangements were made for the next night, a stranger having been seen inspecting the river and spying about among the fir-trees at the back of the pool.
But no one came, and at daybreak the Captain’s crew, as he called it, went back to bed.
The following night did not pass off so peacefully, for soon after twelve, while the watchers, headed by the Captain and Nic, were well hidden about the pool, the enemy came, and, after lighting their lanthorns, began to net the salmon.
Then a whistle rang out, a desperate attack was made upon them, and the Captain nearly had a fit. For his party was greatly outnumbered. The raiders fought desperately, and they went off at last fishless; but not until the Captain’s little force had been thoroughly beaten and put to flight, with plenty of cuts and bruises amongst them, Nic’s left arm hanging down nearly helpless.
“But never mind, Nic,” said the Captain, rubbing his bruised hand as he spoke. “I knocked one of the rascals down, and they got no fish; and I don’t believe they’ll come again.”
But they did, the very next night, and cleared the pool once more, for the watchers were all abed; and in the morning the Captain was frantic in his declarations of what he would do.
To Nic’s great delight, just when his father was at his worst, and, as his old body-servant said, “working himself into a fantigue about a bit o’ fish,” there was a diversion.
Nic was sitting at breakfast, getting tired of having salmon at every meal—by the ears, not by the mouth—when suddenly there was the dull thud of a big gun out at sea, and Captain Revel brought his fist down upon the table with a bang like an echo of the report.
“Lawrence!” he cried excitedly. “Here, Nic, ring the bell, and tell Solly to go and hoist the flag.”