“Which he probably is, if they did but know it, Bob,” returned I. “Keep cool, old man; there’s no hurry; you attend to the steering of the craft, I’ll undertake to cool their courage for them before they’re very much older.”
“Ay, ay,” retorted Bob, “keep cool it is; but it’s getting to be rather ticklish work, lad, ain’t it?”
I was too busy with the gun to reply just then, and in another moment I fired once more. This time we saw the splinters fly from the bows of the boat, and one of the oarsmen sprang from his seat and fell back into the arms of the man behind him.
There was a moment of confusion with them, and then we saw one of the men in the stern-sheets (there were two of them) step along the thwarts and take the injured man’s place. This looked like a fixed determination to come alongside at any price, so I this time inserted a shell instead of a solid shot, which I had before been firing.
Once more, after a very careful aim, the little piece rang out, and again the shot reached its mark; this time with terrible effect, for the shell exploded as it passed through the boat’s thin planking, and the fragments, continuing their flight forward, told so severely among the crew, that it appeared as if they were all more or less hurt. We saw four fall from the thwarts, at all events, and all hands ceased pulling, whilst three of the oars slipped unnoticed overboard.
I unrove the spinnaker-sheet from the main-boom before the astonished Bob knew what I was about, let go the halliards, and let the sail down by the run; and then jumped to the jib halliards and hoisted the sail like lightning.
“Now,” shouted I, “luff you may, Bob, and let’s heave the craft to, and finish the job for them.”
As I said this, Bob put his helm down, whilst I hauled the jib-sheet to windward, and then I sprang aft again to the gun.
By this time they had taken to their oars again, but there were only two of them pulling: a sure indication of the extent to which our last shot had told. They were turning the boat round to pull back to the ship, and seeing this I felt some compunction about firing on them again, and said so.
“Don’t be such a soft-hearted donkey, Harry, lad,” retorted Bob. “Settle the whole lot if you can, boy; it’ll only be so many skulking cut-throats the less in the world. My idee is that every one of them chaps as we can finish off is one honest man’s life saved; so give ’em another of them shells, my boy. They do seem wonderful persuaders, small as they be.”