For a half-hour the battle waged, the steamer alternately drawing near enough to be clearly seen through the fog, and then backing water as it was met by a staggering fire from the four vessels. It seemed as though the fight might even be won by the sailing captains, outnumbering as they did the crew aboard the steamer.
Hamilton Haley, aroused to fury by the desperate position in which he found himself, no longer sought concealment behind house or mast. His craft lay farthest up-stream in the line of vessels, but he had crossed decks to that of the nearest bug-eye and stood boldly erect, firing steadily whenever a flash from the fog gave indication of a possible mark.
Again, he was not unmindful of the fate of his own vessel; and, as the fire slackened for a time, he returned to the deck of the Brandt. Perceiving his advantage at the end of the line, he ordered the lashings made ready for easy slipping.
“Here, you youngsters,” he said to Henry Burns and Wallace Brooks, who were lying flat on the deck, “you get aft there, ready to give Sam Black a hand if he needs it. He’s hit, and may peter out. You jump on to that wheel if I call, or I’ll know why. And one of you be ready to tend sheet.”
Haley brandished his rifle as he spoke, and the two youths made haste to obey, taking up their positions aft. The captain returned to the side of Jim Adams on the deck of the bug-eye of Captain Bill.
Again the firing from the steamer ceased abruptly and the sound of the engines was stilled. The captains and their mates ceased firing also, and waited for action on the part of the steamer. They were wearied by the strain of the conflict and were glad of the respite. They were making a successful fight, however, it seemed, although they had had by this time six men wounded in some way or another.
“We’re beating him off, I reckon,” said Captain Bill, seating himself on the deck, with his rifle laid beside him. “We’re too many for him; but it gravels me how we’re going to get out of this ere river, with him below us.”
“We’ll get out,” declared Haley, confidently. “Only wait till the wind blows up a bit more. It’s coming around square to the south’ard, and the fog’s getting thicker every minute. We’ll slip past him by and by, when he gets enough of trying to shoot holes through the sky—hello, there’s a bell. He’s coming up again, I guess.”
A single bell in the engine-room of the police steamer had given the signal for her to move ahead slowly. They knew the steamer was coming toward them, although as yet she was not visible. Then, to their astonishment, there came the jingle of another bell.
Hamilton Haley and Captain Bill called to their men to be ready.