, 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.

"Thank you, my lad. That's the sweetest drop I ever tasted in my life.
Hard work for the body will make