"No chance of escape, and none of rescue!" groaned Captain Phillips; "there is a fine breeze in the offing, as I can see by the whitening waves; but here, with not hands enough to tow her out, the crippled Hermione might as well be on the top of a mountain."
"Ah, if I had that artful savage with the cocked hat within range of this!" said Morley, through his clenched teeth, as he slapped the butt of his gun.
"Run up the ensign, Noah; let them look at that, whoever they are. We'll die game under it, anyhow," said Phillips, as something of a British sailor's pride and defiant spirit filled his heart.
"Aye," responded Noah, as he ran the scarlet ensign up to the gaff-peak, where it floated languidly at first on the still air of the sheltered creek, but anon the coming breeze made it stream out boldly; "many a round shot and Whistling-Dick I've seen a bowlin' under you," added Noah, as he made fast the halyards, looked up at the colour, and nodded to it as to an old friend.
Anxiously the eyes of the "few but undismayed"—for their courage certainly rose with the desperation of the emergency—were turned to the mouth of the creek, where, between the rocks and mangroves, the deep blue Indian sea, now flecked with white by the breath of a fine steady breeze, was seen stretching in the distance far, far away, until it blended with the sky.
Still nothing was seen and nothing heard!
But ere long, each of the eight men on the deck of the Hermione set his teeth, breathed hard, and turned to his companions, eye seeking eye, while all their hearts beat quicker.
For suddenly there was an unmistakable sound of paddling in the air, and then a shrill yell went up to heaven, as the sharp red prow of a proa, full of dark and active figures, shot round the entrance of the creek, and a row of rapidly-worked round paddles, shaped like huge battledores, furrowed up all the slimy water into foam, as they headed her straight for the ship.