“Got to know perhaps, sir, how we upset t’other. But we can spare him, for I’ll be bound to say there’s plenty more of them. Now I wonder what they are all for—pretty creatures!”
“What they are for, Joe?” cried Rodd, without taking his eyes from the surface of the muddy stream which was carrying them onward.
“Yes, sir; I don’t see as they are much good. I say, there’s another one! No, he’s ducked his head down. Ah, he’s coming up again. Look out, my lads!” cried the man. “I wish there was another pole. There’s nothing left for me but my knife, and they are as hard as shoehorns, I know. I don’t want to break my whittle against his skin. No, he’s going to let us go by. Ah! Look out!”
For as they drew nearer the sun flashed off the reptile’s muddy skin, and they could see it glide round rapidly and strike two tremendous blows on the surface with its serrated tail—blows that had been probably directed at the boat, but which fell short, while in its blind stupidity it kept on thrashing the water several times after the vessel had passed.
“Ahoy! Ahoy!” came from somewhere, seeming to echo from the trees that covered the bank.
“Ahoy! Ahoy!” shouted Joe Cross back. “Why, that means help, sir. The brig must be lying there, just round that bend beyond the trees.”
“Oh no,” cried Rodd excitedly. “We must have gone down miles with the tide.”
“Ahoy! Ahoy!” came again. “Boat ahoy!” from somewhere out of sight; and glancing back Rodd made out that they were passing along what seemed to be a rapid bend.
“Ahoy!” was shouted back, and then all at once, to the astonishment of the sufferers, a couple of boats came into sight from right astern, their occupants sending the spray flying as they bent to their oars and seemed to be racing to overtake the gig.
For the moment the boats, quite a quarter of a mile behind, took up all their attention, and Rodd stood up in the bows waving his hand wildly.