“Keep about this distance out,” James ordered.  “Row quietly.  I will stand up, as if I were watching the shore.”

As soon as the shot was fired, it was answered by shots from other sentries.  A minute later, a drum was heard to beat sharply, and then, in the faint light, a number of French soldiers could be seen, running at full speed towards the shore.  The shots fell thickly round the boat, and one of the men dropped his oar, as a bullet struck him on the shoulder.

“Pull out the plugs,” James said.

The oakum was pulled out and thrown overboard, and the water rushed in.

“Now turn her head from the shore, as if we were trying to escape.”

So rapidly did the water rush in through the four holes that, in a minute, the gunwale was nearly level with the water.

“Turn her over now,” James said, and in a moment the boat was upset, and the men clinging to the bottom.

A shout of exultation rose from the shore, as the boat was seen to upset, and the firing at once ceased.

“Swim towards the shore, and push the boat before you,” the young midshipman said.  “They won’t fire any more now, and we have finished the first part of our business.”

Pushing the boat before them, the men made their way slowly towards the shore, striking the land half a mile below the point where they had overturned.  The French soldiers had followed them down the bank, and surrounded them as they landed.  The holes in the boat explained for themselves the cause of the disaster.

An officer stepped forward.

“You are our prisoners,” he said to James.

The latter bowed.

“It is the fortune of war,” he said.  “Your men are better shots than I gave them credit for,” and he pointed to the holes in the boat.

He spoke in English, but the officer guessed his meaning.

Some of the Indians and Canadians soon came flocking down, and, with angry gestures, demanded that the prisoners should be shot; but the French officer waived them off, and placed a strong guard of his own men around them, to prevent their being touched by the Indians.  The young midshipman spoke French fluently, having been specially selected by the captain for that reason; but it had been agreed, between him and James, that he should not betray his knowledge of the language, as he might, thereby, pick up information which might be useful.

They were at once conducted before Bougainville.

“Do you speak French?” he asked.

James shook his head.  The midshipman looked as if he had not understood the question.

“It is clear,” the French officer said to those standing around him, “that they came in to reconnoitre the landing place, and thought, in the dim light, they could run the gauntlet of our sentries’ fire.  It was more accurate than they gave them credit for.”

“The boat was struck twice, you say?”