For at that moment a white ball of smoke shot out from the gunboat's deck, followed by a dull thud, and something came skipping over the heaving sea, before there was another sharp crack and a shell burst about a hundred yards from the schooner's stern. "I wonder whether we shall have to go any nearer," said Poole excitedly. "They'd be able to do us a deal of mischief like that. I believe she's got four of those small guns on board." "Judging from their gunnery," said Fitz coolly, "they are not likely to hit us, even if we go much more near." "Well, I hope not," said Poole. "Those are nasty waspish things, those shells. There she goes again. I wonder whether we could do anything with rifles at this range." The skipper proved to be of opinion that they could, but he preferred to devote all his attention to the navigation of the schooner, and in fact there was plenty to do, for every now and then they found themselves dangerously near the spots where a little creamy foam showed upon the surface of the sea, insidious, beautiful patches that would have meant destruction to the slight timbers of the yacht-like craft. But the mate was perched up on high, and between him and the steersman the skipper stood ready to transmit the keen chief officer's signals to the man at the wheel, so that they rode in safety through the watery maze, paying no heed whatever to the shells which came at intervals from the gunboat's deck, the small modern guns having a terribly long range. The boats filled with men still hung from the davits, ready for the order to start, which was never given, the captain of the gunboat evidently being of opinion that his rowing men would not be able to compete with the schooner's sails, and waiting as he was for the bursting of some shell overhead bringing down one of the important spars by the run, while it was always possible that the schooner's fate might be the same as his, to wit, running stem on to some rock, to sink or remain fast. Under these circumstances the boats would have been of avail, and another attempt might have been made to board and take the little schooner. But the Spaniards' gunnery was not good enough; the shells were startling, but their segments did no worse than speckle the surface of the sea, and at last involuntarily cheers rang out, for the _Teal_ was running swiftly away from the danger, and the shells that came dropping were far astern. About half-an-hour later, and long after the firing had ceased to be dangerous, the mate came down from his eyrie, to seat himself and begin wiping his dripping face. "You look tired, Mr Burgess," said Fitz, going up to him, "Shall I get you a tin of water?" "Thank you, my lad," said the rugged fellow huskily. "I am nearly choked with thirst." Fitz ran to the breaker, took the tin that stood ready, dipped it, and bore it to the mate, who drained it to the last drop.