Dick turned his eye to it
every now and again.

"We shall have our chance," he thought. "She's got away, and as she
paddles faster than the smaller fry, she's leaving an opening behind
her. I'll give her a minute more, and then--"

"See that boat?" he called out to Johnnie. "Well, watch. I shall swing
round in a few seconds and steer in behind her. Let her crew know that
you have a rifle. Keep at it without ceasing, even after we've passed,
for I have to work the tiller. Ready? Over she goes!"

He might have been running his launch in a regatta race, so calm was he.
There was a smile on his face, for Dick had long got over the sensation
of fear which the sight of the enemy had at first caused him. The
difficulty with the tiller had roused him, and now, for the life of him,
he could only look upon the whole adventure as a race, a race, it is
true, which meant life or death for him, but one nevertheless which
stirred his blood and brought all the sporting instincts of the
Englishman within him to the surface.

"A close thing. Any one's game!" he said, as he swung the tiller over,
and turned the launch on her heel, spinning her round till the water on
either side was white with foam. "Now for it!"

The little vessel had obeyed the movement of her new tiller with
remarkable celerity. She might have been a torpedo boat by the way in
which she behaved. She felt the pull of her rudder, and as if she were
a living thing she spun round in a sharp curve, the weight of her
engines and deck hamper causing her to roll heavily. Then she righted
as she ran, and her nose sought for the narrow opening left in the very
centre of the fleet. It was a most exciting moment. The air trembled
with shouting, while if there had been a hail of bullets before, there
was a torrent now, aimed with all the carelessness of the native, some
overhead, some astern, and some even into the middle of comrades. And
to these one rifle responded--that of the native stoker. He lay in the
engine well, his head nicely clear, and his snider spat out a stinging
rain which caused many an enemy to fall in his boat, or overbalance and
slip into the river. But though he jerked the cartridges from the
breech as rapidly as possible, he could make little impression on the
crew of the war vessel. At the first movement of the launch there had
been a shout, and as if by magic each one of the paddlers got to his
feet and changing round knelt again.