“Not they!” came in chorus; but the next moment there was another report, and a smaller ball struck the water so near the boat that the spray was sent flying over them.
“They’ve got the two small guns to bear, sir,” said Joe quietly, “and there’s somebody aboard as knows how to aim.”
He had hardly ceased speaking when there was another puff of smoke from the schooner’s deck, accompanied by a whizzing, shrieking sound through the air just above their heads, while before they had glided with the stream another dozen yards there was a puff of smoke from the three-master’s deck, followed directly after by a puff from the strange schooner, and as the reports of the two heavy guns were echoed from the great walls of verdure upon the river’s bank, the air over their heads seemed full of shrieking missiles.
“Grape and broken iron,” growled Joe Cross. “Take the tiller, Harry Briggs. Step the mast, my lads, and run up the sail. Don’t take no notice of their shot. It don’t do to go mad, even if we do want to fight. Don’t go to sleep over it, boys. We are in the breeze again, and we must run into shelter and think.”
A low growl came from the men as they rapidly obeyed orders, and not a man seemed to flinch as the long gun of the English schooner sent forth its heavy missile again, this time to strike the water some distance ahead and then rise and go crashing amongst the trees, whose leaves could be seen to come pattering down.
Three more shots came skipping over the river before the boat began to glide swiftly, under the pressure of her sail, and yells of derision came ringing from the enemy as they saw the effect of their fire and the effort being made to escape.
“Ah!” half sighed Rodd. “They’ve left off.”
“Ay, sir,” said the coxswain. “They know they can’t hit us now we are flying through the water; and the worst of it is, they think we are afraid and that we English dogs are running away as hard as we can, with our tails between our legs. But they aren’t, sir; they’re a-standing up stiff and at right angles, as our old man calls it, to our backs; eh, messmates?”
“Ay, ay, Joe!” came from the crew, with a roar of laughter.
“And as for my teeth—our teeth, I mean—they are about as sharp as sharp. But we have got the wind with us, gentlemen, and we will just run up-stream and round the bend yonder, so as to get behind the trees just somewhere where we can keep watch with that there little spy-glass, and by and by we will have another try. This go they a’n’t played fair, but next time we’ll make ’em.”