The boat-owner produced quickly a long bundle of cloth, and from the middle of it pulled out a rifle.
'A Lee-Metford,' Fred exclaimed, as he snatched the rifle out of the man's hand. 'Where is the ammunition?'
'Here it is,' Ping Wang said, as he burst open a box and displayed several packets of cartridges.
'That is splendid,' Fred declared, as he opened a packet. Like many London medical students, he had become a Volunteer, and was, moreover, a good shot. Having placed the open packet of cartridges beside him, he took up the rifle, and, after loading it, raised it to his shoulder, but did not yet fire. 'I won't shoot,' he said, 'until I am sure they mean to attack us.'
He had not long to wait before receiving proof of the pirates' intention. The boat was approaching fast, and when it was about a hundred yards from them, the pirates fired. Their rifles made a tremendous noise, and the travellers' boat was hit about an inch above water.
'That is enough,' Fred declared, and, placing his left foot on a seat and resting his left elbow on his knee, he took aim and fired.
'Good shot, Fred!' Charlie cried, as one of the pirates who had fired on them fell forward, wounded, among his comrades. The pirates had evidently not expected such a reception, and the result of Fred's shot filled them with dismay. They ceased rowing, and took counsel for a few moments.
'Look out, Fred,' Charlie said, 'there is a man in the bow with a breechloader. He's aiming at you.'
Just as he spoke the man fired, and the bullet whizzed perilously near to Fred's head.
'Get under cover,' Charlie begged, but Fred replied calmly, 'I can do best where I am.'