“They’re lowering a boat,” said Disco, whose attention was engrossed by the manoeuvres of the “Firefly.”
Soon the boat left the side of the vessel, which was compelled to check her speed for fear of running on the reef. Another gun was fired as she came round, and the shot dropped right in front of the dhow, sending a column of water high into the air. Still Yoosoof held on until close to the breakers, when, to the surprise of the Englishmen, he suddenly threw the boat’s head into the wind.
“You can steer,” he said sternly to Disco. “Come, take the helm an’ go to your ship; or, if you choose, go on the breakers.”
He laughed fiercely as he said this, and next moment plunged into the sea, followed by his crew.
Disco, speechless with amazement, rose up and sprang to the helm. Of course he could not use his bound hands, but one of his legs answered almost as well. He allowed the boat to come round until the sail filled on the other tack, and then looking back, saw the heads of the Arabs as they swam through the channel and made for the shore. In a few minutes they gained it, and, after uttering a shout of defiance, ran up into the bushes and disappeared.
Meanwhile the “Firefly’s” boat made straight for the dhow, and was soon near enough to hail.
“Heave-to,” cried an interpreter in Arabic.
“Speak your own mother tongue and I’ll answer ye,” replied Disco.
“Heave-to, or I’ll sink you,” shouted Mr Small, who was in charge.
“I’m just agoin’ to do it, sir,” replied Disco, running the dhow into the wind until the sail shook.