They needed no further incentive, but bent to their work, sending the sampan surging through the water; and the stream being rapid here, they made good way, the prahu having, fortunately for them, thoroughly loosened the tangled water-weeds that otherwise would have hindered their flight.
The doctor listened to the beat of the prahu’s oars, which seemed to grow more distant. Then the noise stopped, and recommenced in a different way, the beat sounding short and choppy.
“What does that mean?” he muttered, thoughtfully; but he smoothed his brow as he saw that Helen was watching him intently.
Suddenly he started, for he read the meaning of the sounds, which did not grow more distant.
“They are not satisfied,” he said to himself, “and are coming after us. The prahu cannot turn; the river is too narrow here, and they are backing water.”
He tried to doubt his own words; but as they entered upon a long straight portion of the river, down which they glided rapidly, he gazed back, and just as they neared the end of the reach he saw the prahu in full pursuit.
“Paddle hard,” he cried; “they must not overtake us. Quick! get round out of sight: we shall get on better in the sharp windings, and leave her more behind.”
He was not sure of this, but hoped it would be the case; and he was in the act of hoping this when—bang!—there was a sharp report from a lelah on board the prahu, and a pound ball came skipping along the surface of the stream, splashed up the water a few yards away, and then crashed in amongst the dense jungle-growth to the left.
“Paddle, my lads, paddle away!” shouted the doctor; and the men toiled on, every muscle seeming to stand out of their bronze arms, and the veins starting in neck and brow as they obeyed his words, till the boat seemed as if it were skimming like a bird over the surface of the stream.
“That’s right! Good! good!” he cried, in the Malay tongue. “I never saw boat worked so well before.”