“Worst thing you can do,” said Tollemache.
“But why?”
“They would be sure, then, you could not hurt them. If you shoot, shoot straight, with the heaviest shot you possess.”
At that moment the rowers permitted the canoe to swing round with the tide. One of the men stood up, and Elsie, who seized the chance of snap-shotting the party, ran to the upper deck, so she did not overhear Courtenay’s smothered ejaculation. He was scrutinizing the savages through his glasses, and he had distinctly seen the ship’s name painted on a small water-cask on which the Indian had been sitting. Tollemache made the same dramatic discovery.
“Out of one of the ship’s life-boats, I suppose?” he said in a low tone to the captain.
“Yes. Did you see the number?”
“Number 3, I think.”
“I agree with you. That was the first life-boat which got away.”
Christobal, startled out of his wonted sang-froid, whispered in his turn:
“Do you mean to say that one of the boats has fallen into the hands of these fiends?”