"Handy enough at twenty paces," was his contemptuous remark, "though they may serve to gain our end. Load all four, Master Granville, and place them by my side."
A stern chase is ever a long one, yet the two pursuing boats came on apace, each urged by twelve rowers, whose efforts were encouraged by their officers.
Meanwhile the batteries ashore, seeing that something untoward was happening, began to fire at our pursuers, though their aim was wild, and bid fair to harm us as well as our foes.
Suddenly a bullet struck our light mast, and, cutting through the halyards, brought the sail down with a run.
Uttering a fierce exclamation, Firestone tore away the folds of the canvas that enveloped him, and, calling on me to keep the boat on her course, resumed rowing, though I imagined it to be a forlorn hope, for, glancing over my shoulder, I saw one of the rebels' boats was but six lengths astern.
Even as I looked a huge column of water sprang into the air, and fell in a shower of spray to the accompaniment of a crashing and rending of wood and shrieks and shouts of surprise and terror. A chance shot from the batteries had wrought havoc with the leading boat, and her crew were struggling in the water.
The second boat made to the rescue, and at the same moment we saw a troop of dragoons riding furiously along the shore from the Castle—yet, though within easy range, they forbore to fire on their discomfited foes.
Another twenty strokes and our craft's forefoot grounded on the beach.
We were safe within the lines of the beleaguered fortress.