We had not gone far (certainly not fifty yards), when we saw the horses of the coastguards galloping down to the sea, one of the horses shying at the whiteness of the breaking water.
A voice hailed us. "Boat ahoy!" it shouted; "what are you doing in the boat there?"
And then all the horsemen drew up in a clump among the rocks.
"Us be drifting, master," shouted Marah, speaking in the broad dialect of the Devon men; "us be drifting."
"Come in till I have a look at you," cried the voice again. "Row in to the rocks here."
"Us a-got no o-ars," shouted Marah, letting the boat slip on. "Lie down, son," he said; "they will fire in another minute."
Indeed, we heard the ramrods in the carbines and the loud click of the gun-cocks.
"Boat ahoy!" cried the voice again. "Row in at once! D'ye hear? Row in at once, or I shall fire on you."
Marah did not answer.
"Present arms!" cried the voice again after a pause; and at that Marah bowed down in the stern sheets under the gunwale.