"Trim the boat starboard, all!"
That saved them for the moment, but at terrible risk, for it spoke
loudly to the enemy of their position, and in rapid succession almost
simultaneously three more streaks of light came from the right bank of
the river with their reports.
Murray gave vent to a low hissing sound, and then remained silent,
striving his utmost the while to thrust the boat away from the strong
tree-trunk; but his efforts, like those of his companions, were in vain.
"It's no good, sir," whispered Tom May; "we're a-shoving against one
another. Let me lead, sir, and I think I can do it. There's hard
bottom here, sir, and we're almost aground.--Fire away, you lubbers," he
added, in a whisper; "you can't hit us in the dark. Now then, Mr
Murray, sir, you take an oar along with the lads and wait till I say
`Pull.' Then all on you do your best."
"But what about you?" whispered Murray.
"You leave that to me, sir. I'm big enough and old enough to take care
o' mysen."
Murray was silent, for it was no time to dispute. Every now and then--
as fast as their enemies could reload--there was a shot from the bank,
and the bullets whizzed just over the heads of the men. The young
officer's disposition was to ask what the sailor intended to do, but he
contained himself, and, feeling for an oar, thrust it over the side and
into the rowlock, conscious the while that the others had done the same,
but in his case and that of the man in front for the oar-blades to rest
upon branches of the submerged tree. He realised, though, that his was
the bow oar, and for a few moments that was all he could grasp. Beyond
that everything was confusion, and he sat ready to pull, and in spite of
himself starting violently at every shot from the shore when the bullet
struck the boat or splashed in amongst the branches of the ingeniously
contrived dam.
Then the lad felt something like a hysteric sob escape from his breast
as the puzzle and confusion from which he suffered gave place to clear
mental light, and he grasped the full force of the big sailor's plan.
The noise of panting and splashing which accompanied what felt like a
sudden lightening of the boat was caused by Tom May lowering himself
over the side, after laying down the boat-hook with which he had been
sounding the depth; and then Murray felt that the brave fellow had begun
to wade with the water close up to his arm-pits, forcing the bows of the
boat away from the tree-trunk against which it was pressed by the water,
and gaining a little.
"That'll do it," he said, with a deep grunt.
"Shall I get to the boat-hook, messmate?" whispered Titely.
_Bang_! came from the bank.
"There's your answer," growled Tom May fiercely. "You 'bey orders and
stick to your oar. That was precious nigh, though."
Murray heard every word, and it was to him as if he could see everything
that the big sailor did, as with one arm over the cutter's bows he
forced it a little more and a little more away, fighting against the
pressure of the water and meaning to get the boat at right angles to the
dam and her stem pointing straight up stream before he gave the order to
pull.
But it was slow work, for the pressure of the water was so great and the
man's foothold on the bottom so insecure that at last, and just as he
was about to call upon the middy and the man who handled the third oar
to try and pull, there was a slip and a splash, May's feet glided over
the bottom, and he was swept back, fortunately still clinging to the
bows, back to where he had started from--close against the trunk.
"Are you there, Tom?" whispered Murray excitedly, for he feared the
worst.
"Here I be sir," growled the man. "I'm sticking tight enough."
"Hah!" ejaculated the lad. "If it were only light!"
"Jolly for us it ain't, sir," said the man. "Bad if they could see.
Hear that?"
_That_ was another shot from the right bank of the river, followed by a
couple more, and the bullets splashed up the water not far from their
heads.
"Are you going to try again?" whispered Murray.
"Arn't I, sir! I'm a-going to try till to-morrow mornin' if I don't do
it afore. Now then, all on yer, I'm going to begin shoving off her bows
again, and this time don't wait, my lads, for any orders from me. Use
your own gumption, and all on it at once. It'll take all my wind to
keep me going. You, Mr Murray, you get hold of the water first charnsh
and pull, and you t'others back-water; on'y just remember this: a broken
oar means done for.--Now here goes."
Once more Murray felt right through his brain every movement of the big
sailor as he began to wade, holding the cutter's bows nipped between his
arm and his broad chest; and as the boat began to move the middy felt
among the boughs and twigs with the blade of his oar to such good effect
that at the risk of breakage he turned the oar into a lever which
slightly helped to move the boat's head from its position.
"Good!" grunted Tom May softly, and he thrust away steadily a little and
a little, while the two who held the stout ash blades on the other side
began to back-water.
"Good!" grunted Tom again, and, as if in answer, _Bang! Bang_! came
from the shore, and a couple of splashing sounds rose from the woodwork
where the bullets struck.
"All together," whispered Murray, as he bent forward and got a fresh
hold of the boughs, while to his intense satisfaction he felt that the
man behind him had got a good grip too, and the boat's head was thrust
farther and farther away.
"Good!" grunted Tom May again, and Murray could not refrain from
uttering a low Hurrah! for at his next bending forward his oar cut down
into the water so that he got a good hold and pulled with all his
might--steadily too.
"Back-water hard!" he panted, and the men whose oars dipped on the other
side thrust with all their might.
"Hooray!" came now from the man behind Murray. "I've got water!"
"Then pull all you know," panted Tom May as he gave the boat's head what
he intended to be one last tremendous thrust, "for you've got it all
your own way now."
"No, no," whispered Murray excitedly. "Keep on, Tom!"
"Can't, sir," said the man, with a low hiss. "I'm off the bottom. Pull
all!" he shouted now, and Murray felt the boat lose its trim, and sank
over on his side bending down, knowing full well now that the brave
fellow was heaving himself up so as to get over and seize an oar.
But it was dark, black darkness. Every one was pulling his best now in
obedience to the cry "Pull all!" There was no regular swing, but plenty
of confusion, while a thrill of excitement half intoxicated the men, as
they felt that they had mastered the pressure of the stream, and
consequently they pulled away madly, conscious as they were that they
were moving up stream and leaving the enemies, who were still firing,
though with no effect, behind.
"Starn all, you lubbers!" literally roared Tom May. "D'yer want to
scrat me right out of the cutter's bows?"
"Stroke there!" cried Murray to the man who wielded that blade. "Get
your oar over astarn and steer. We're running into the bank."
There was a quick movement, the boat rocked, and a scraping sound and a
splash told that the order had been obeyed.
"I can't see, sir," cried the man, who had begun to steer.
"Do your best, my lad. Pull gently, my lads. We must feel our way.
What about you, Tom May? Are you all right?"
"Me, sir? I'm no use to steer," grumbled the man. "Let me come and
take stroke oar; the lubbers pretty well scratted my eyes out."
_Bang! Bang! Bang_!
Three shots came quickly now in succession, but the flashes were from
fully fifty yards back.
"Keep silence, my lads," whispered Murray. "They're firing at the
splashes of our oars."
A minute later those scattered irregular splashes became almost as one,
and though they were given slowly, the effect was steady and the
steersman proved to be doing his part so carefully and well that the
flashes from behind became more distant and sounded fainter, and the
last seemed to come from round a bend of the river.