Presently a report was heard, and a bullet flew skimming over the water, but dropped beneath the surface somewhere astern.
Another and another followed.
“Their shot won’t hurt us as yet,” observed Bill. “They fancy that they can frighten us, but we’ll show them that they are mistaken;” and he pulled on as steadily as he had before been doing.
Jack, however, could not resist jumping up once more on the chest, and looking towards the ship.
“Hurrah! there’s a boat coming off from the ship!” he cried out. “If she’s English, she’ll soon make the Frenchmen put about.”
Jack was right as to a boat coming from the ship, but the Frenchmen still pulled on. Perhaps they did not see the boat, or if they did, thought that she also was French.
Again and again the pursuers fired, the bullets now falling close to the raft.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” cried Bill, rowing on.
But the French boat was evidently getting terribly near.
If any tolerable marksman were on board, he could easily pick off the two occupants of the raft. They knew that well enough, but they kept to their resolution of pulling on till the last.