"Hold her right on the edge of the bank," said Norris, his voice husky with the pain.
"Now," said Carlos.
Rufe applied the fire.
"Boom!" The thunder echoed in the hills. From the shore came horrid yells, of pain or fright, but never another shot.
"We got them that time," said Norris, with a sigh of satisfaction.
And now we turned to Norris's wound. The ball had passed through the fleshy part of his shoulder, and was not deep. We soon had on a bandage. After a good swig out of the water butt, he declared he was ready for another fight. Though after one attempt to stand he was content to recline on the deck. But he insisted on our re-loading his gun.
The moon had set when we passed out over the bar, between those two flanking lines of surf.
"There's a schooner!" called Robert, come from the wheel, where he had been relieved by Captain Marat.
To the east, the vessel showed, all sails set, scurrying away.
"The Orion!" cried Grant Norris. "Give her that shot!" he commanded.