"That —— Funnel-paint come back again," said the half-seen man.
Jefferson laughed unpleasantly. "He's getting monotonous, but he's taking steep chances this time."
The beat of paddles slackened a little, there was a murmur of voices beneath the steamer's side, and Jefferson leaned out, looking down into the impenetrable blackness beneath him. A scraping sound came out of it, and apparently moved along, while, when the half-seen man thrust a big block of coal upon him, Austin turned and strode softly after Jefferson, who walked forward beside the rail.
"Better let him have it now, sir," said the other man. "She's quite low on the other quarter, and if they try swimming round her stern the booms won't stop them."
Then there was a vivid streak in the darkness, and a detonation that was twice repeated, while Austin, who hurled his lump of coal down with all his strength, caught a whiff of acrid smoke. There was also a splash below, and a confused clamour that was lost in the hasty thud of paddles as the invisible canoes got away. Then, while the Canarios came floundering across the deck, a single voice rose up.
"Bimeby we done lib for cut you t'roat!" it said.
"Oh, go to the devil!" said Jefferson, and the big revolver flashed again.
There was no answer, and the splash of paddles slowly died away. It was evident that the affair was over, and Austin fancied that nobody was much the worse. Jefferson sauntered towards him snapping the spent shells out of his pistol.
"Funnel-paint is getting on my nerves. I'll have to drop half a stick of giant powder on him next time he comes," he said.
"He didn't make much of a show," said Austin. "You think he meant to come on board?"