“A grand sight, Stan,” said Uncle Jeff.
“Yes, and such a lovely morning, too,” replied the lad.
“Ah! The more fools the enemy not to go peaceably to work or play, and enjoy it, instead of coming out a-murdering for the sake of a few bales of silk and chests of tea. They will have it, so it is not our fault. I’m in hopes, however, that they’ll soon have had enough of it when we give them a taste of what we can do. Hullo! Look out! Here they come.”
“Ah-h!” came like a gasp from Stan’s chest as he let the breath he had been holding escape.
For the enemy, in answer to six heavy booms from one gong, were now waiting motionless, as if they had been carefully drilled to perform some special evolution.
Then one loud resounding bang, and there was a yell from every junk.
Crash! went a dozen gongs then, with their beaters toiling furiously, and every junk was full of motion, their occupants pouring over the sides of the three first on to the wharf, while their places were taken by those in the three outer junks lashed to the inner, and a rush was made for the wharf as fast as room was made.
The yelling continued, but there was no firing as yet, all waiting till the whole of the pirate force was on shore ready.
Meanwhile the movements had augmented the thick smoke of the stink-pots, whose contents now began to burn fiercely, sparks and flashes of flame darting through the black fumes.
“Now,” cried Blunt suddenly after literally torturing those he commanded by his reticence; “leaders only.”