"Lord!" said Holroyd, "what now?"
"I have decided," said the captain.
"What—to land?" said Holroyd, sitting up brightly.
"No!" said the captain, and was for a time very reserved. "I have decided," he repeated, and Holroyd manifested symptoms of impatience.
"Well,—yes," said the captain, "I shall fire de big gun!"
And he did! Heaven knows what the ants thought of it, but he did. He fired it twice with great sternness and ceremony. All the crew had wadding in their ears, and there was an effect of going into action about the whole affair, and first they hit and wrecked the old sugar-mill, and then they smashed the abandoned store behind the jetty. And then Gerilleau experienced the inevitable reaction.
"It is no good," he said to Holroyd; "no good at all. No sort of bally good. We must go back—for instructions. Dere will be de devil of a row about dis ammunition—oh! de devil of a row! You don't know, 'Olroyd..."
He stood regarding the world in infinite perplexity for a space.
"But what else was there to do?" he cried.
In the afternoon the monitor started down stream again, and in the evening a landing party took the body of the lieutenant and buried it on the bank upon which the new ants have so far not appeared....
I heard this story in a fragmentary state from Holroyd not three weeks ago.