The speed they were able to get out of the schooner, and the admirable
seamanship of her commander enabled them to reach the sought-for shelter
before the fury of the West Indian hurricane came on. It was rough
work, but with two anchors down, the _Teal_ managed to ride out the
blast, and fortunately for her crew the storm subsided as quickly as it
had risen, leaving them free to run in for Velova with a gentle breeze
over a heavy swell, which as evening approached began to subside fast.
It still wanted a couple of hours of sunset when the morning's position
was reached, and with favourable wind and the signal flying they were
running close in, when Fitz suddenly caught Poole by the arm.
"Look yonder," he said.
"What at?--My word!"
The boy rushed aft to where his father was standing watching the distant
city through his glass; but that which he was about to impart was
already clearly seen. From behind a wooded point about a mile behind
them the black trail of smoke rising from a steamer's funnel was slowly
ascending into the soft air, and for a few moments the skipper stood
with his teeth set and his face contracted with disappointment and rage.
"Think they have seen us, Burgess?" he said at last.
"Yes; they have been lying in hiding there, watching us till we were
well inside."
"Can we get outside again?"
"Not a chance of it," was the reply; "the wind will be dead in our
teeth, and we can only tack, while they are coming on full speed, and
can begin playing long bowls at us with heavy shot whenever they like."
"What's to be done?" said the skipper, and without waiting for an answer
he added, "Keep on right in. There is one chance yet."
"There, don't look so precious pleased," Poole whispered to Fitz. "We
are not taken yet."
"I--I wasn't looking pleased."
"Yes, you were," said Poole sourly; "but you needn't be, because you
would be no better off with them than you are with us. But you are not
with them yet. Father seems to be taking things very easily, and that
only means that we are going to get away."
It did not seem like it, though, for as the schooner sailed on into the
beautiful orange glow of the coming evening, the gunboat neared them
swiftly, spreading a golden trail of light far behind her over the sea
which her screw churned up into foam, while overhead trailed backward
what seemed to be like a triumphant black feather of smoke.
The city before them looked bright and attractive with its gaily-painted
houses, green and yellow jalousies, and patches of verdure in the
gardens, beyond which the mountains rose in ridge after ridge of green
and purple and grey. The bay in front of them was singularly devoid of
life. Probably on account of the swell remaining from the hurricane
there were no fishing-boats afloat save one, with a long white lateen
sail running up into the air like the pointed wing of some sea-bird
gliding over the surface of the sea.
No one paid any heed to the boat, which drew nearer and nearer from the
fact that it was gliding across the bay right in the schooner's course.
In fact, every eye was directed at the gunboat, which came steadily on
without hurry, as if her commander felt that he was perfectly certain of
his prize, while what went on upon her deck was plainly visible through
the glass, the boys noting in turn that her heavy gun was manned and
ready to bring them to whensoever the gunboat captain pleased to make
her speak.
"Oh, Fitz!" groaned Poole. "It does seem so hard. I did think we were
going to do it now."
"Well, I can't help being sorry for you," said the middy. "Yes, it does
seem hard, though I suppose I oughtn't to speak like this. I say,
though, look at those stupid niggers in that boat! Why don't they get
out of the way? We shall run them down."
"Murder! Yes," cried Poole, and pulling out his knife he ran to one of
the life-buoys to cut it free; but ere he could reach it there was a
sharp crack as the schooner seemed to glide right over the fishing-boat,
the tall white lateen sail disappeared, and Fitz ran to the side,
expecting to see those who manned the slight craft struggling in the
water.
To his surprise, though, he saw that a dark-complexioned man was holding
on with a boat-hook, boat and trailing sail were being carried onward by
the schooner, and another man was climbing over the port bulwark.
What followed passed very quietly. The man gained the deck and ran aft
to where the captain and mate were hurrying to meet him.
There was a quick passing of something white, and then the man almost
glided over the bulwarks again into the boat, which fell astern, and
those who manned her began to hoist the long lateen sail once more.
"A message from the shore," whispered Poole excitedly, as he saw his
father step into the shelter of one of the boats swinging from the
davits, to screen himself from any observant glass on the gunboat's
deck, and there he rapidly tore open a packet and scanned the message
that it contained.
"Oh, I should like to know what it says," whispered Poole, "but I
mustn't ask him. It's lucky to be old Burgess," he continued, for the
captain walked slowly to his chief officer, who stood sulkily apart as
if not paying the slightest heed to what was going on.
The skipper stood speaking to him for about a minute, and the lad saw
the heavy-looking mate give a short nod of the head and then turn his
eyes upwards towards the white spread sails as they still glided on
through the orange glow.
_Boom_--_thud_! and Fitz literally jumped; the report, and its echo from
the mountain-backed shore, was so sudden and unexpected.
"Blank shot," said Poole, looking at the white smoke curling up from one
of the man-of-war's small guns.
"Order to heave-to," said Fitz; "and you will have to, or a ball will
come skipping along next."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Poole, "across our bows; and if we didn't stop
for that I suppose they would open fire with their big gun. Think they
could hit us?"
"I don't know about them," said Fitz, rather pompously, "but I know our
old _Tonans_ would send you to the bottom with her first shot."
"Then I'm glad it isn't the _Tonans_" said Poole, laughing. "Here, we
are not going to be sunk;" for in obedience to the summons the schooner
was thrown up into the wind, the big sails shivering in the soft breeze,
and gradually turning of a deeper orange glow. Meanwhile there was a
bustle going on aboard the gunboat, and an orange cutter manned by
orange men glided down into the sea. Then oars began to dip and at
every stroke threw up orange and gold. So beautiful was the scene that
Fitz turned from it for a moment to look westward for the source of the
vivid colouring, and was startled for the moment at the curious effect,
for there, balanced as it were on the highest point of the low ridge of
mountains at the back of the city, was the huge orange globe that lit up
the whole bay right away to sea, and even as he gazed the sun seemed to
touch the mountains whose summit marked a great black notch like a cut
out of its lower edge.
"Here they come," said Poole, making Fitz start round again. "What
swells," he continued bitterly. "The dad ought to go below and put on
his best jacket. Look at the golden braid."
"I say," cried Fitz, "he'll see my uniform. What will he say to me?"
"Take you for an English officer helping in a filibustering craft."
"Oh, but I shall explain myself," cried Fitz. "But it would be rather
awkward if they didn't believe me. Here, you, Poole, I don't understand
a word of Spanish; you will have to stand by me and help me out of a
hole."
"And put my father in?" cried Poole. "You are a modest chap!--Why, look
there, I am bothered if the dad isn't going to do it!" cried the lad
excitedly.
"Do what?"
"Put on his best jacket. Look, he's going to the cabin-hatch. No, he
isn't. What's he saying to old Butters?"
The lad had no verbal answer, but he saw for himself. The gunboat's
cutter was still a couple of hundred yards away, and coming steadily on,
when, as if by accident or from the action of the swell, the spokes of
the wheel moved a little, with the consequence that the wind began to
fill the schooner's sails, the man at the wheel turned it a little, and
the canvas shivered once more.
But the schooner had begun to move, gliding imperceptibly along, and as
this manoeuvre was repeated, she moved slowly through the water, keeping
the row-boat almost at the same distance astern. A full minute had
elapsed before the officer noticed this, and he rose in the stern-sheets
and shouted an order in Spanish, to which the mate replied by seeming to
repeat it to the man at the wheel, who hurriedly gave the spokes a turn,
the sails filled, and the _Teal_ glided steadily on.
"Yah!" roared Butters furiously. "Out of the way, you great clumsy
lubber!" And he made a rush at the man, who loosed his hold of the
spokes and backed away as if to shelter himself from blows, while,
swinging free, the rudder yielded to the pressure of the swell and the
schooner glided along faster still.
There was a threatening shout from the boat and a hostile movement of
weapons, to which Butters responded by roaring out in broad, plain
English--
"Ay, ay, sir! All right! Clumsy lubber! Break his head."
As he spoke he moved slowly to the wheel, seized the spokes, rammed them
down as if confused, and then hurriedly turned them the other way, with
the result that the schooner still kept gliding slowly on, with the
cutter at the same distance astern.
"That'll do," said the skipper; "drop it now," and trembling with
excitement as he grasped the manoeuvres being played Fitz made a grab at
Poole's arm, while Poole made a grab at his, and they stood as one,
waiting for the result.
In obedience to his orders, the boatswain now turned and held the
schooner well up in the wind, her forward motion gradually ceasing, and
the gunboat's cutter now gaining upon them fast.
"Why, the sun's gone down," whispered Fitz excitedly.
"Yes," said Poole, "and the stars are beginning to show."
"In another five minutes," said Fitz, "it will be getting dusk."
"And in another ten," whispered Poole hoarsely, "it will be dark. Oh,
dad, now I can see through your game."
"So can I," whispered Fitz, though the words were not addressed to him.
"Why, Poole, he means to fight!"
"Does he? For a penny he doesn't mean to let them come on board. Why,
look at Butters; he's lying down on the deck."
"Yes," whispered Fitz; "to be in shelter if they fire while he's working
the spokes. Look, the sails are filling once again."
"It's too soon," whispered Poole hoarsely. "They'll see from the
gunboat and fire, and if they do--"
"They will miss us, my boy," said the skipper, who had approached
unseen. "Lie down, my lads--every one on deck."
"And you too, father," whispered Poole. "They may hit you with a
bullet."
"Obey orders," said the skipper sternly. "The captain must take his
chance."
_Crack, crack, crack_, and _whizz, whizz, whizz_!
The officer of the cutter saw through the manoeuvre at last, and fired
at the retreating schooner's skipper, while a minute later, as the
_Silver Teal_ was gliding rapidly into a bank of gloom that seemed to
come like so much solid blackness down the vale, there was a bright
flash as of lightning, a deep boom as of thunder, which shook the very
air, and a roar of echoes dying right away, while the great stars
overhead now stood out rapidly one by one in the purple velvet arch
overhead.