The dark shapes of the two
vessels must now certainly be visible from the walls. The shot flew wide.
Although the grab was well within range it was doubtless difficult to
take aim, the distance being deceptive and the sights useless in the
dark. But this shot was followed at intervals of a few seconds by another
and another; it was clear that the fugitives were running the gauntlet of
the whole armament on this side of the fort. The guns were being fired as
fast as they could be loaded; the gunners were becoming accustomed to the
darkness, and when Desmond heard the shots plumping into the water,
nearer to him, it seemed, every time, he could not but recognize that
success or failure hung upon a hair.
Crash! A round shot struck the grab within a few feet of the wheel. A
shower of splinters flew in all directions. Desmond felt a stinging blow
on the forehead; he put up his hand; when he took it away it was wet. He
could not leave the wheel to see what damage had been done to the ship,
still less to examine his own injury.
He was alone on board. Every other man was straining at his oar in the
gallivat. He felt the blood trickling down his face; from time to time he
wiped it away with the loose end of his dhoti. Then he forgot his wound,
for two more shots within a few seconds of each other struck the grab
forward. Clearly the gunners were aiming at his vessel, which, being
larger than the gallivat, and higher in the water, presented an easier
mark.
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