“Smokeless powder and high velocity bullet,” declared Viner. “Shall we traverse the bank with a burst of Lewis-gun fire?”
“Yes, do,” replied the lieutenant-commander.
The weapon barked, sending out a wide-flung sheaf of bullets. After that there was no more sniping from that part of the river bank.
“Think she’ll take it going astern, Viner?” inquired the Owner.
“She’s scooped out quite a lot of gravel,” replied the lieutenant. “There’s no harm in trying.”
The engines were run first at half and then full speed astern. Sandgrub quivered but otherwise remained immovable.
“It seems as if the level of the river’s falling,” declared Poundall. “By Jupiter! It is! Look at that patch on our starboard bow. It wasn’t dry four minutes ago.”
The unpleasant fact was apparent. It meant that if the gunboat had been unable to free herself some hours ago she certainly could not now, since the river had fallen quite eighteen inches.
“We’ll be here till we’ve grown whiskers,” said the lieutenant-commander moodily as he rang down “finished with engines”. “Get the party over the side to lay out an anchor, Mr. Viner; then pipe all hands to ‘make and mend’.”
The stream anchor, weighing over three hundredweights, was lowered and a quantity of cable ranged out.