"Hullo! What's wrong?" exclaimed Edward Murray, leaping out of his cot;
for he had been awakened by a heavy sound like thunder; and directly
after he heard the second mate's voice calling to him.
"Here, come on deck; there's a row ashore. Convicts broke loose, or
something."
The young man hastened on deck, as did the captain and the rest of the
crew, to find that the night was intensely dark, but that there was a
bright display of lights on shore, conspicuous amongst which was a dull
heavy glimmer, which, however, soon increased to a glow, and then flames
mounted higher and higher, and it became evident that some good-sized
building was on fire.
At this moment there was a sudden flash, and the heavy thud of a gun
from the sloop, followed by loud cries and shoutings on the beach.
"Hadn't we better man a boat and go ashore?" said Edward Murray eagerly.
"There's a bad fire, and we might be of some use."
"Better stay aboard," said the captain. "That's part of the prison on
fire. Those fiends of convicts have fired the place, and they're
escaping, safe. There, I told you so. That's not the sort of thing
used for putting out fires."
As he spoke, there came the loud sharp rattle of musketry, and, from the
lights on board the sloop, it was evident that the men had been beat to
quarters, ready for any emergency. The ports were open, showing the
lights within; and a faint glimpse was obtained of a boat being lowered;
but soon the noise and shouting ceased, the musketry was heard no more,
and only a dull murmuring sound as from a busy crowd came floating
across the bay.
But the light of the burning building still shone out strong and lurid,
and by means of a night-glass it could be seen that men were busily
endeavouring to extinguish the flames. When they shone in a ruddy path
across the bay, a boat, too, could now and then be seen for a moment or
two, as if some eager party were rowing ashore. Then an hour passed
with the lurid flare settling slowly into a bright golden glow, the
satiated flames sinking lower and lower, till, the excitement having
worn away, first one and then another of the crew slipped down to his
hammock, and Edward Murray was about to follow, when a faint sound off
the port quarter arrested his steps.
Save where there was still the bright glow from the burning embers, all
around was now intensely dark.
"Wasn't that the rattle of a thole-pin?" said Murray to his companion.
"Didn't hear it, for my part," was the brusque reply.
"Then what's that? Did you hear it then?"
"Yes, I heard that," was the answer.
And then the two young men crossed the deck and leaned over the side,
peering out into the darkness; but seeing nothing for all that, though
there was the faint sound of oars dipping slowly, and it was evident
that some boat was nearing them.
"Do they mean to board us?" said Murray. "Depend upon it, the
man-of-war has boats on the lookout, and they're rowing with muffled
oars, ready to overhaul the escaping party; that is, if any of them have
got loose."
"That's it, depend upon it," said the mate. "They'll hail us directly.
They must see our lights."
There was silence then for a few moments, during which two or three of
the crew, attracted also by the noise they had heard, came over to their
side. Then came the plash of an oar; and, starting into activity, as if
moved by some sudden impulse, Murray shouted:
"Boat ahoy!"
"Ahoy, there!" was the answer.
And then the rowing was heard plainly, as if those who handled the oars
had thrown off the secrecy of their movements.
"It's the man-of-war's boat," said the second mate.
"What ship's that?" was now asked from the darkness, but in anything but
the loud hearty hail of a sailor.
"Sarah Ann, port of London," answered the mate. "Are you from the
sloop?"
"Ay, ay," was the reply.
"Bring a lantern here, and swing over the side," said Murray uneasily;
and one of the anchor-lights was brought, and sent a feeble ray, cutting
as it were the dense curtain that hung around. Then the bows of a boat
were seen swiftly advancing, and for a moment Murray gazed at its
occupants with a mixture of astonishment and terror; but the next
instant he had seized one of the capstan-bars, and stood ready.
"Here, Smith, Norris, Jackson, be smart!" he shouted, "or we shall lose
the ship. Convicts!"
That last word seemed to electrify the men into action; and as the boat
grated against the side of the heavily-laden vessel, just beneath the
fore-chains, man after man armed himself with the capstan-bars, and
stood ready by the first mate.
The lantern was dashed out directly; and it was evident that men were
climbing up the side by means of boat-hooks hitched into the
fore-chains. Now followed a struggle--short, sharp, but decisive; for
first one and then another convict was knocked back into the boat as he
tried to gain a foothold. There was a little shouting, a few oaths; and
then, apparently satisfied that the reception was too warm, and that
they were fighting against odds, the occupants of the boat shoved off,
just as the ship's crew was reinforced by the captain and men who had
gone below.
"That was a narrow escape," said the captain. "Mr Murray, I sha'n't
forget to mention this to the owners."
"Suppose we keep a sharp look-out for the rest of the night? They may
come back, unless they find some other vessel less on the alert."
"Oars again," whispered one of the men.
They listened attentively, and once more could plainly make out the soft
smothered dip of oars floating across the water.
Ten minutes passed, and then, as the crew stood with beating hearts
waiting for the next assault, there came another hail out of the
darkness.
"What ship's that?"
"Never you mind!" answered the captain roughly. "What boat's that?"
"First cutter--his Majesty's ship Theseus," was the reply. "Heard or
seen anything of a boat, or boats, this way?"
"Nearly boarded by one, only we beat them off," said the captain.
"Convicts, weren't they?"
"Hold hard a minute, and I'll come on board," was the answer. "Bows
there--in oars, men!" and the boat was heard to thump against the
vessel's counter.
"Keep down there," shouted the captain, cocking a pistol, "or I fire!"
"Confound you! don't I tell you we're friends?" said the same voice.
"Yes, you tell me," muttered the captain. "Bring a lantern here."
A light was brought, and swung down, to show the blue shirts of the
crew, and the red uniforms of half-a-dozen marines in the stern-sheets;
when, apparently satisfied, the captain grumbled an apology.
"All right, my man!" was the laughing response; and a young lieutenant
sprang up the side. "And so they nearly took you, did they? Lucky for
you that you had so good a look-out. Can't tell me where they steered
for, I suppose? But of course not--too dark. Confound the rascals!
They say there's about half a hundred of them got away--killed a couple
of warders, and done the deuce knows what mischief. Good-night!" and he
sprang down the side. "If you see any more of them, just burn a blue
light, and you shall have a boat's crew aboard in no time. Give way, my
men."
The oars fell plashing into the sea; and then, save the low regular dip,
all was once more silent. The crew, as they kept a sharp look-out,
fancied they once heard a loud splash and a faint cry; but there was no
repetition of the sounds, though the men listened attentively. The glow
by the town faded slowly away, a breeze sprung up, and the stars came
peering out, one after another, till, as the sky brightened, the spars
and rigging of the sloop-of-war could be dimly seen, her lights just
beginning to swing to and fro as the breeze ruffled the waters. But no
farther alarm disturbed the Sarah Ann, though one and all the crew kept
on deck, in case of another attack.
"Wasn't there a small schooner off there, about a quarter of a mile?"
said the captain suddenly, as he lowered the night-glass, with which he
had been carefully searching for enemies.
"To be sure!" said Murray. "Isn't it there now?"
"Try for yourself," was the reply.
And the young man carefully swept the offing.
"I can't make her out," he said; "but we may see her as day breaks.
Perhaps she moved in more under the land."
"More like those fellows boarded her, and that noise was the captain
sent overboard. Well, all I can say, Murray, is, that if they'd got
possession here, the best thing they could have done would have been to
throw me over; for I could never have faced the owners again."
Morning broke, but there was no schooner in sight; whereupon the sloop
immediately weighed in chase, for the convicts had seized her, cut the
cable, and made sail, running none knew whither.
Towards afternoon the captain of the Sarah Ann came on board, after
concluding his business with the agents.
"Good luck to you, Murray; make sail, and let's be off, for I sha'n't
feel as if the old Sally is safe till we've left this beautiful spot a
hundred knots astern. The poor skipper of that schooner's ashore there,
and he's half mad, and no wonder."
The captain made his way below, the anchor was weighed, sail after sail
dropped down, and then, with a pleasant breeze astern, the old barque
slowly began to force her way through the bright and transparent waters,
making the sunlit windows of Port Caroline grow more and more distant,
while Edward Murray's heart gladdened within him, as he thought of the
prolonged stay for discharging and loading that would be made in Kaitaka
Bay, New Zealand.
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