All the boats pushed swiftly off together, and did it so silently that they were close under the bow of the flag-ship before being observed. The Leander also saw them, and a few guns from her, as well as from the flag-ship, were instantly turned on them.
“Musha! look there!” cried Ted Flaggan, who chanced to be on the part of the ship nearest them.
A tremendous crash followed, and thirty-three out of the thirty-seven boats were in one moment sent to the bottom!
Of the four that escaped and put about to retreat, one came within the range of the gun at which Flaggan served. It was trained to bear.
“Fire!” said the captain.
“Howld on!” cried Ted, suddenly clapping his hand on the touch-hole, and receiving the red-hot poker on the back of it.
“What’s that for, mate?” demanded the man who held the poker, as he quickly raised it.
“All right, me hearty; fire away,” said Ted, as he quietly removed his hand.
Next moment the gun leaped back as if affrighted at its own vomit of shot, smoke, and fire, and a column of white foam rose from the sea, astern of the boat.
The momentary check had delivered it from destruction, and Ted Flaggan had the satisfaction of knowing that he had saved his friend Rais Ali, as he tenderly patted his injured hand.