It took about another minute to restart it.

We were just beginning to gain speed when some one shouted.

All eyes turned toward the shore, the overloaded boat rocking dangerously as the crowd bent their bodies all in one direction together.
Down near the shore-line an electric torch flashed on the uniforms of half-a-dozen Sikhs, and we could hear an unmistakably British voice shouting an order.
We were out in the moonlight now, a perfect target.

Bullets chanced at us could hardly fail to hit somebody.

Two or three well-placed shots might sink us.