“That ‘djoekoeng,’ ” said Liem King, “will get through safe enough. I made her out to be a surf boat, and you know it takes a good deal to upset them.”
“No doubt,” said Than Khan, “for all that, I am glad enough I am not in her.”
“Look out,” shouted the other. “Look, there she is again, yes, she is making for the Moeara. If she can get behind the ‘bow-nets’ she is safe enough.”
“If she can get under the lee of the bow-nets, perhaps, but, but—”
“Another boat,” exclaimed Liem King. “There are white men in her.”
The words were no sooner uttered than two, three, four sharp reports were heard. They were rifle-shots fired from the boat, upon the occupants of the “djoekoeng.” With what result who could tell? For a single instant only, the faint gleam of some gigantic breaker had revealed the two boats to the pair of spies. The next moment all was deep darkness again, and, gaze as intently as they would, not even their sharp eyes could discover anything further.
Thus a quarter of an hour passed away, when suddenly Than Khan exclaimed, “A steamer!”
Sure enough, far out at sea, shone the well-known green and red lights, and, high above them, the white light at the mast-head.
“The guard-ship!” cried Liem King.
“No doubt of it,” said the other, “it must be the Matamata. Well, all I can say is that if the Kiem Ping Hin has left her anchorage she is not showing any lights; she has got away safe enough by this time.”