Clearly this was the best thing to be done. The next few moments were tense with excitement. The vessel rose, but it seemed to Burroughs that she had never answered so slowly to the elevating lever. Above the hum of the tractor could be heard the zip of bullets as they tore their way through the canvas of the planes and the sides of the boat. Burroughs felt a nervous dread lest a shot should reach the petrol tank or the cylinders. But the boat still rose; it was drawing rapidly nearer to the enemy, and the Englishmen held their breath with suspense.
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
There fell a sudden silence. Burroughs' intention had been seen by the gunners, and as they could not lift their pieces high enough to take aim at the vessel now that it was rising, and the range altering every moment, the gunboat was slewing round as if to head down-stream. It was broadside against the stream when the flying boat flashed by at a height of sixty feet. The occupants heard the reports of several rifles; but they were now travelling at the rate of fifty or sixty miles an hour, and nothing but a shower of bullets from the machine guns had any likelihood of striking them.
"All right now," said Errington, with a gasp of relief, when the flying boat was a good two hundred yards down-stream, and the gunboat was still turning.
"I hope so," replied Burroughs.
He glanced from right to left, undecided whether it would not be advisable to strike inland and return to the river lower down; for the channel was pretty straight for a long distance, and the vessel, if it flew directly forward, would still be in danger from the guns. In a few moments, however, he decided that there was even more risk in leaving the river if any mischance should happen to the boat. For one thing, the longer he flew, the more petrol he consumed; for another, if the engine failed, and he was forced to descend, on land he would be at the mercy of any wandering predatory band, whereas on the water he could always drift on the current, with some chance of safety if he did not happen to be observed. Accordingly he flew straight ahead, intending to sink upon the surface as soon as a bend in the river hid the vessel from view.
In another half-minute the machine guns recommenced firing. The aim of the gunners appeared to be even wilder than before. Chung Pi and the servants had recovered courage enough to rise to their knees and peer over the edge of the canvas side at the gunboat far behind. The captain laughed as he heard the report of the guns, and made a jocular remark about the paltry skill of Su Fing's gunners. There was no longer the whistle of bullets flying around, nor the slight ripping sound of the shots passing through the planes. It seemed that all danger was over.
The flying boat was now skirting the edge of the swamp in which it had been concealed by the river pirates, and Errington remembered that Burroughs had never heard the full story of that strange episode. He had been tempted to refer to the matter during the lunch with Reinhardt, but the German was in a sense their guest; and since Burroughs did not mention it, Errington said nothing. After all it was Burroughs' affair. The story would keep until they reached Sui-Fu.
They were now about three-quarters of a mile from the gunboat, and Burroughs, with his eye on a bend in the course a short distance ahead, just where the painted rocks gave warning that the water-way was not clear, was congratulating himself that at that point he might safely descend. Suddenly the firing behind redoubled in fury; it seemed that the gunners had realized that in a few seconds their chance would be gone. Bullets sang around; the Chinamen again ducked their heads below the gunwale; and once or twice there were the ominous sounds of bullets tearing through the planes, or flattening themselves against the metal parts of the framework.