There was no mystery about it—the other boats pulled two pairs of oars apiece.
That probably meant more work for me.
I remembered that I had discharged a number of shots, and that in its present condition my revolver was next to useless.
And I also joyfully recollected purchasing a box of cartridges that very evening, intending to take it aboard the yacht.
What great, good fortune! Why, things were working harmoniously all around!
My nimble fingers started to search for that godsend of a pasteboard box, which was discovered snugly reposing in a pocket of my coat. Then I tore it open, and proceeded to load.
I rather guess few men ever replenished the chambers of a revolver under more singular and exciting conditions, with a jerky boat, only starlight to see by, and closely pursued by several detachments of fierce, vindictive natives.
Who the fellows in the other boat might be I neither knew nor cared; perhaps some of them might have been numbered among the original guests of the mayor, although I doubted this very much, as those chaps, if they had kept up the long chase, would have been too winded to do much rowing.
More likely they consisted of other watermen, or soldiers recruited by the riotous mob in its whirlwind passage through the town.
Men in all lands are mightily moved by the alluring glitter of a golden prize, and these fellows risked everything with that in view.