As he spoke a bullet whistled so close to Ned’s ear that he ducked.
“Hooray! a miss is as good as a mile,” yelled the boy, the excitement of battle coming over him. All his life Ned had dreamed and hoped of being in one of the naval engagements he had read about, and now, without the slightest warning, here he was in the thick of it. He would have given his chance of promotion almost to have been able to seize up his revolver and fire back at the revolutionists.
“There must be a hundred of them in there,” grunted Stanley, tearing off his shirt and allowing Herc to bind up his wrist.
“All of that,” rejoined Herc. “Wow, I hear the bees hum!”
The red-headed youth clapped his hand to his amber thatch as if to check the bullet that had just whistled past him. Ned, his heart beating tumultuously, stuck to his post. In another moment they would be past the promontory and out of danger.
Suddenly the engineer rose from beside his engines and climbed out on the little stern deck. He raised his hands above his head as if to dive and swim ashore.
“He’s gone mad from fright!” shouted Stanley.
“Look out for sharks!” warned Stark. “The water’s alive with them.”
But without heeding the warning cries, the panic-stricken wretch prepared to make a wild leap. There was a fresh volley from the point and a rattle of sharp reports. The engineer threw his hands above his head and collapsed in a moaning heap.
“A hit!” exclaimed Stanley grimly.