Old Gold: The Cruise of the "Jason" BrigFenn, George Manville
General
Old Gold: The Cruise of the "Jason" Brig
Fenn, George Manville
Boats and boating -- Juvenile fiction; South America -- Juvenile fiction; Treasure troves -- Juvenile fiction
Men began fumbling; but at sea men chew their tobacco instead of
smoking, and no box was forthcoming. At that moment Brace tried again,
for, though wanting in the power to ignite the priming at the end, the
poker was fairly hot a few inches from the point, and he noted that it
was making the pitch bubble in the seam it lay across.
"Sight the gun again," cried Brace hurriedly, and the mate sprang to
obey his order, exposing his head and shoulders in doing so, and very
nearly paying the penalty, for a couple of arrows whizzed by pretty
closely.
Directly after, in response to another touch from the middle of the
poker, there was a flash, a puff of white smoke, and a roar like
thunder. The gun-carriage in its recoil leaped from the deck and fell
with a loud bang upon its side, while the crew burst into a hearty
cheer.
The effect of the shot had been beyond the captain's expectation. In
their utter astonishment and dread the Indians had to a man sprung out
of the canoe, overturning it in the act, and were swimming and diving
their best to reach the shelter of the hanging boughs, while their frail
vessel was floating bottom upward rapidly down the stream.
"Good aim, Dellow," cried the captain. "Well fired, squire."
Brace glanced at the result of the shot, and then darted to the
companion-ladder, to hurry down into the cabin so as to see what the
consequences of the heavy report had been there, for in the hurry and
excitement of the preparations he had for the moment forgotten his
brother.
To his surprise and satisfaction, however, Sir Humphrey lay back
sleeping heavily, with a soft dew beading his face, and evidently
perfectly free from suffering.
Brace laid his hand upon his brother's forehead, to feel that it was
comparatively cool, and upon touching his wrist it was to find the pulse
beating steadily and well.
The next minute he was stepping gently back, and ascended once more to
the deck.
"Oh, here he is," said the captain. "Look sharp, squire, if you want a
shot at the blackguards before they get into shelter."
"Not I," said Brace half-angrily. "Ah, look, look!"
There was no need for him to shout, for a wild cry drew the attention of
all to one of the swimmers, who suddenly threw up his arms and then
began to beat the surface wildly, but only for a second or two, before
with a couple of sharp jerks he was dragged under water, while another
cry from the savage nearest to the shore gave warning that his was to be
a similar fate, one jerk, however, sufficing to drag him under, just as
his companions reached the shelter of the trees.
"Horrid," growled the captain, as, evidently satisfied that there were
no others to shoot, he stood close to the bulwark.
"What was it drew them under?" said Brace hoarsely.
"Can't say, squire," replied the captain. "Might be alligators, snakes,
or a shoal of the savage fish that swarm along these rivers. Lesson to
us not to try bathing."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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