The sun was now well up in the sky, and it was blazing hot over our heads, but I don’t think a man of us minded this, as we pulled away, like Britons, and as lightheartedly as some of us used to do in the old days when we belonged to the Saint Vincent, and were struggling our best to be the first boat at our summer breaking-up sports so as to win the Admiralty medal!
But, there was something more than a medal at stake now, aye, or a money prize either; for we were battling, as we all well knew, mere lads though most of us were, for our Queen—God bless her!—and that country whose flag waves over every sea, and on whose dominions, stretching from east to west all round the globe, the sun never sets!
Nearer and nearer we got into the coast, all hands pulling with a will; Larrikins, who was stroke, giving the fellows a touch of his old style when he rowed in the captain’s gig of the training-ship; the whaler, with the middy in command, running us hard, though, and the second cutter labouring up astern.
As we approached the dhows, however, Mr Dabchick ordered us to pull easy, singing out to the other boats to spread out to leeward and make for the batilla, which had remained behind like a watchdog guarding the smaller craft, while we attacked her in the bows.
The breeze was now dying away, the wind blowing off shore; and the Somalis, seeing this, triced up their lateen sails, turning round like rats driven up into a corner and facing us, at bay.
Captain Hankey, who had been pitching shot and shell into them from the moment of our casting off from the Mermaid, some of the missiles describing beautiful curves over our heads as we pulled in, now ceased firing, for fear of hitting us as well as the foe; and so, the Arabs were able to concentrate all their energies towards resisting us, the batilla sending some round shot in our direction from an old brass carronade she had mounted on her high forecastle, one of which, skipping along the water as if it were playing ducks and drakes, shaved off three of our oar-blades on the starboard side.
This did not stop us, though.
“Shift over, bow and the next man,” shouted out Mr Dabchick. “Now, all together, pull away, my lads, and let us go for them!”
The cheer that we gave on starting away from the Mermaid was nothing to what our chaps roared out now from their lusty throats; as, making the water boil with the blades of our oars, we rowed hand over fist right at the batilla’s bows, the second cutter making for her stern while the whaler, by Mr Dabchick’s directions, pulled athwart the hawse of a smaller dhow that had stayed her flight landwards and was coming back, apparently, to the assistance of her big consort.
‘Crash!’ came the stem of our boat against the side of the batilla at the same time that her old carronade, which had been loaded this time with bullets and scrap iron like a shell, and having its muzzle depressed, went off, right in our faces, with a ‘Bang!’