“Ah!” exclaimed Juanetta, “the blue sea—we may yet escape.”
As she spoke, another shot better aimed took effect on the quarter of the canoe, but did no further injury. It showed, however, that there were good marksmen in the boat intent on mischief, and that they were perilously near already. For some time they were again shut out from their pursuers, but as the latter doubled the last point, they had, too evidently, gained on them.
“If any one again rises to fire, you must take also to your arms, señor,” said Juanetta, a shudder passing through her frame; “and if it is he, kill him—kill him without remorse. He has shown none. That rifle at your feet was his—it was always true to its aim.”
She had scarcely ceased speaking, when a figure stood up in the boat. It seemed to have the likeness of Daggerfeldt. Staunton seized the rifle to fire—he was too late. Ere he had drawn the trigger, a flash was seen, and Juanetta, with a wild shriek, fell forward into the canoe. Staunton fired; the man who had sent the fatal shot stood unharmed, but the oar of one fell from his grasp, and got entangled with those of the others. This would have enabled the canoe to recover her lost ground, had not Mauro, on seeing his beloved mistress fall, thrown up his paddle, exclaiming that he wished to die with her.
“She may yet be saved if you exert yourself,” cried Staunton, in Spanish; “row—for your life row; I will attend to your mistress.”
Urged by the officer’s commanding tone, the negro again resumed his paddle. Staunton, still guiding the canoe, raised Juanetta, and placed her back in the stern-sheets—she scarcely breathed. The ball had apparently entered her neck, though no blood was to be seen. He suspected the worst, but dared not utter his fears lest Mauro should again give way to his grief. Several other shots were fired at them from the boat, which was rapidly gaining on them. They were close on the bar, in another moment they would be in clear water.
The slaver crew shouted fiercely; again a volley was fired, the balls from which went through and through the sides of the slight canoe, without wounding any one, but making holes for the water to rush in. One more volley would sink them, when a loud cheerful shout rung in their ears, and two boats with the British ensign trailing from the stern were seen pulling rapidly towards them.
Jack Hopkins and Bob Short answered the hail; the pirates, too, saw the boats, they ceased rowing, and then pulling round, retraced their course up the river. The canoe, with the rapid current, flew over the bar, and had barely time to get alongside the barge of the “Sylph,” when she was full up to the thwarts. We need not say that his crew welcomed Captain Staunton’s return in safety with shouts of joy, after they had believed him dead.
With the strong current then setting out of the river it was found hopeless to follow the slaver’s boat. They were soon alongside the brig.
Poor Juanetta was carried carefully to the captain’s cabin, watched earnestly by Mauro. The surgeon examined her wound.