“Shove her—shove her,” cried Hank. The huge brute of a scow had settled herself comfortably in the sand as if she meant to take up her residence there. Tommie, tumbling out of the boat nearly as quickly as she had been thrown in, put her shoulder to the stem; Hank and George at either gunnel clutched hard. Hank gave the word and they all heaved together. Next moment they were on board her and she was water-borne.
Hank seized one of the ash sweeps and using it as a pole drove her half a dozen yards, she slued round sideways, but George in the bow had a sweep out now and with a stroke pulled her nose round whilst Hank took his seat.
As they got away on her, McGinnis, leading the hunt, was only twenty yards from the sea. He was holding his fire, as were the others, till they reached the water’s edge, when the bang of an old musket that might have landed with Padre Junipero made the echoes jump alive.
The attackers wheeled.
Down through the two defiles and fanning out on the sands, pouring like ants, came the countryside for all it was worth, half a hundred beggars and landed proprietors, zambos and terzerons, yellow men and men who were almost black, armed with anything and everything and led by the “Dredging Machine.” A fellow who had tumbled in his hurry was picking himself up. It was his musket that had gone off by accident.
“Pull!” shouted Hank.
They were saved. The McGinnis crowd, like a pack of wild dogs chased by wolves, were racing along the water edge towards the south horn of the bay; the Mexicans, faced by the facts of the sand and a proposition in Euclid, had paused for half a moment. The direct line towards the south horn of the bay was hard going over the soft sand, but it was shorter than making direct for the hard beach. Two sides of a triangle being longer than the third, they took the shorter way.
The rowers as they rowed watched the race, and saw plainly that McGinnis and his merry men were making good. Then they turned their attention to the ship ahead. She was swinging to the current broadside on to them, a frowsy looking two-topmast schooner, the Heart of Ireland sure enough.
“Wonder how many chaps are on board,” said George.