Another dozen yards and the leader of the little party felt safe, when a sharp report came from the ravine above, the shot echoing and reverberating along the sides of the cliffs till it sounded like a peal of thunder which drowned the shout that followed, a shout meant as a warning to the guardians of the boat that their party was close at hand. The man lying upon his side sprang to his feet, and the other two woke up, to stare stupidly about them before they realised the state of affairs, and that their companion had seized his musket, from where it lay with those of his fellows against the foot of the cliff which towered above their heads; for in accordance with their plans, Jack and Dinny had run on and seized the boat, while Abel and Bart had faced round with their weapons ready, retreating slowly toward the sea. For a few moments no word was spoken, and then it was the first of the three sailors who realised their position. "It's cat or a bullet in us, mates," he cried, desperately. "I says bullet; so come on." The other two were Englishmen like himself, and evidently entertained their comrade's preference for a chance bullet or a stab to being tried by court martial and sentenced to a flogging, so they also snatched up their muskets and belts, hastily threw the latter over their shoulders, and, taught by training, brought their pieces to bear, shouting to the prisoners to surrender. "Give up, you lubbers!" cried the first sailor. "It's of no good." For answer Abel glanced over his shoulder, and seeing that Jack and Dinny had reached the boat, slowly continued the retreat. "Will you surrender?" roared the sailor, as another shout came from the ravine. "Surrender yourselves," cried Bart, fiercely. "Lay down them guns." "Surrender, or we fire," cried the sailor again, as the two men slowly backed toward the boat, watchful of a rush being made. Bart uttered a low, defiant growl, and the bamboo he held quivered in his knotted hands. "All together, then, mates," shouted the sailor, "_fire_!" Jack uttered a groan as he stood knee deep in water, running the boat as near as it could be got to his friend, and a mist swam before his eyes. _Click click click_!--and as many tiny showers of sparks were struck in the pans of the pieces. "Why, you stupid lubbers, you didn't load!" roared the sailor. "Now, then, ground arms--load!" A shout of derision arose from Abel and Bart, and the former took up the tone of menace now. "Throw down your muskets, or I fire," he cried. "P'raps you're not loaded neither, mate," cried the sailor, laughing. "Now, lads. Bagnets: charge." His companions hesitated for a moment, and then, lowering their pieces, they made a rush for those who barred their way to the boat. _Bang_! One sharp report. The right-hand sailor span round, dropped his musket, stooped down and seized his leg beneath the knee, and dropped into a sitting position upon the sand. "Hurt, mate?" cried the first sailor, halting.