We had not gone far when three cannon were fired ahead of us with a sound that seemed to burst something inside my ear.
“You are expected on board,” said the sergeant to my convict; “they know you are coming. Don't straggle, my man. Close up here.”
The two were kept apart, and each walked surrounded by a separate guard. I had hold of Joe's hand now, and Joe carried one of the torches. Mr. Wopsle had been for going back, but Joe was resolved to see it out, so we went on with the party. There was a reasonably good path now, mostly on the edge of the river, with a divergence here and there where a dike came, with a miniature windmill on it and a muddy sluice-gate.
When I looked round, I could see the