“Let ’em call, Mas’ Don. Somebody else seems a-calling of me, and that’s my Sally. Oh, don’t I wish I hadn’t got any clothes.”
“Can they see us?” whispered Don, as they swam steadily on.
“I don’t believe they can, sir; and if they can, they won’t see us long. Shouldn’t be surprised if they lowered a boat.”
“Ah! Look out!” whispered Don. “Shall we dive?”
For he heard the clicking of the muskets as they missed fire.
“Well, I do call that cowardly,” said Jem, as he heard the order to load; “shooting at a couple of poor fellows just as if they was wild duck.”
“Swim faster, Jem,” said Don, as he gazed back over his shoulders at the lights as the shots rang out.
“No, no; swim slower, my lad. They can’t see us; and if they could, I don’t believe as the men would try and hit us. Ah! Not hit, are you?”
“No, Jem; are you?”
“Not a bit of it, my lad. There they go again. Steady. We’re all right now, unless a boat comes after us. We shall soon get ashore at this rate, and the tide’s helping up, and carrying us along.”