Placing his rifle by his side, Alwyn resumed his passive attitude towards the silent and invisible Celestial. There could be very little doubt, he reasoned, that Ah Ling had survived that fusillade.
For quite five minutes he remained on the alert, but a strange, uncanny silence seemed to brood over that bullet-riddled structure.
"I'll put in five more rounds," he decided. "Then I'll investigate at close quarters. The blighter must be done in absolutely by this time."
He was on the point of carrying his intention into effect when Mostyn hailed excitedly:
"He's done you, my festive! The Chink's half-way to shore."
Burgoyne sprang to his feet and looked over the side. Swimming towards the little inlet was a Chinaman, bareheaded and with his pigtail trailing in the water. Ah Ling, he knew, wore a pigtail. Very few of the Chinese pirates did, but he was evidently not a believer in the Western craze that was sweeping over the yellow republic. But it might be just possible that there had been a third man on board the schooner.
Unhesitatingly the Third Officer ran aft and peered into the riddled deck-house. It was empty as far as human beings were concerned. There were a couple of rifles and several pistols, while raised at an angle of about 45 degrees to the floor was a sheet of steel that, while not stout enough to stop a direct hit, was capable of deflecting an obliquely striking bullet.
Unseen and unheard, Ah Ling had abandoned his defences and had slipped over the taffrail. He was now within fifty yards of the shore, where, to the horror of Burgoyne and his companions, Hilda Vivian was standing gazing with perplexity at the captured schooner.