The result of this was that Jem went over side-wise just in front of another fugitive, who tripped over him and took a flying plunge, hands first, into the shallow water, sending it up in splashes which sparkled in the sunshine.
By this time Lynton was up with the rest, hitting right and left, before facing round with Brace to defend the boats, while Briscoe and Dellow came to their help, and, thus cut off; the six sailors turned off along the river bank and made for the nearest clump of trees, among which they disappeared, leaving their wounded upon the field.
“Hah!” cried the captain breathlessly, “I’ve ’most lost my wind. Now, gentlemen, I call that a neat job. Will you do the crowing, Mr Brace?”
“I don’t think there’s any need, captain,” said Brace, who was examining one hand.
“Not a bit, my lad. Hullo ... hurt?”
“Only knocked the skin off my knuckles. Your men have such hard heads.”
“Yes, but we’ve softened some of ’em,” said Lynton.
“Given ’em a thoroughly good licking,” cried the captain; “eh, Sir Humphrey? Better than shooting the idiots ever so much. Be a lesson to ’em,” he continued, raising his voice. “You, Lynton, collect those pieces that the thieving dogs took. They dropped ’em all, didn’t they?”
“Yes, sir; they’ve left every one of ’em,” said the second mate.
“That’s right. Mr Brace, just you take one of the shot guns and keep guard over these six chaps littering the deck—ground, I mean. They’re prisoners, and I’m going to make slaves of them to row us up the river. I’ll give ’em gold. If one of ’em tries to run after those other cowardly swabs you fire at him, sir. Pepper him well in the legs, and if that doesn’t stop him, give him the other barrel upwards.”