The launch was a few hundred yards down the lagoon when Darrin, alertly watching, made out several figures on the eastern shore.
Patiently he waited until the first flash from a rifle was seen, which was followed instantly by the report and the "pss-seu!" of a bullet.
"Let 'em have the rest of what's in the Colt," the young ensign directed, calmly. "Men, don't fire too rapidly, but keep up your work. We want to be remembered by Cosetta, if he has the good luck to be still alive."
It was neither a heavy nor an accurate fire that came now from the enraged Mexicans. Helped out by the Colt, the fire from the moving craft was sharp enough to discourage the rapidly diminishing ardor of the miscreants on shore.
Just as the launch rounded the point of land at the mouth of the lagoon, and stood out into open water at full speed, a stray bullet killed Seaman Hicks.
"Yes, sir, he's dead, poor fellow!" exclaimed Riley, looking up as Ensign Dave stepped hastily forward for a look at his man. "Hicks was a fine sailor too."
"For a party that wasn't expected to fight," returned Darrin wearily, "we've had a pretty big casualty list—-two killed, and three wounded."
"You're wounded yourself, sir," exclaimed Riley.
"Oh, my boot was cut," Darrin assented, indifferently.
"Look at your wrist, sir," urged the young Coxswain.