“Hang your boat!” cried the officer, angrily. “Keep together, my lads. Yes, all right; we’re coming.”
The party went off after their leader at a run, for another sharp whistle rang out at a distance.
“Well, he might have been civil,” said Aleck.
“Haw! haw! haw! Fancy your asking a luff-tenant on duty that, Master Aleck!” said Tom, laughing, and talking with his mouth full, for he had recommenced his unfinished meal.
“It wouldn’t have hurt him,” said Aleck. “Here, leave off eating, Tom, and let’s get away from here. I don’t want to be mixed up with this horrid business.”
“’Tis horrid, sir, to you, but I got used to it,” said the man, rolling off the side to begin swaying the boat, Aleck leaping out on the other side.
“No good, sir. She’s fast for another half-hour. Tide rises very slowly round here.”
“Then we shall have to stop here and listen. Hark, that’s glass breaking. People struggling too. I say, Tom, try again; push hard.”
“Hard as you tells me, sir; but it’s no good—her deep keel’s right down in this here fine shingle. We must wait till the tide lifts her.”
The sailor stopped short to listen, for the noise which came to them on the still night air increased. Hoarse voices ringing out defiance, savage yells and curses, mingled with the shrieks and appeals of angry women, smote upon the listeners’ ears, and Aleck stamped one foot with impatient rage.