At Close Quarters.
Without giving himself time to think, Ralph now read as follows:
My Dear Cousin:
If he does not get lost on his way you will be apt to see an awkward
country boy in Savannah in a day or two, who is quite anxious to go to
sea. I have recommended him to apply to you, and you will do me a
great favor, not only to take him, but to see that he never comes back.
Mind you--no violence. I know your devilish temper. But you can
either wear him out with hard work, or leave him in Africa, or get rid
of him in some way which may gratify the hatred which I and mine have
felt for his whole generation for years, and yet avoid difficulty with
the law. We have enough to contend with as it is, in our Cuban venture.
Frankly now, if you wish any more cash advances from me, you must see
to this lad, and contrive to make something out of this cargo of live
stock. Shipping wild niggers is growing riskier every year, especially
as Cuba and Brazil (our only markets left) threaten to free their
slaves.
Look sharp, dodge all warships, and attend to that brat of a boy. I
have soft soaped him by giving him a letter to you which you will
interpret by this.
Your Cousin,
Theodore Shard.
Ralph's first hot impulse was to go up and make known to Gary that he
now saw through the eccentricities of the latter's behavior, and that
Shard's treachery was also known. A second thought convinced him that
such a course in the captain's present mood, would most likely, only
precipitate some act of violence of which he would be the victim.
Ralph now saw why he had been sent up the river on a perilous errand,
and why he and his companions were so readily deserted on the first
inkling that a sloop of war was near.
Gary's unchanging severity and dislike were explained, and as the boy
contrasted his present treatment with the honeyed manner which had so
deceived him in Savannah, he felt that he was justified in using any
means to counteract such methods.
As he flung the letter down, a slight noise made him turn. Duff was
standing at the door.
Ralph, feeling that here was his best friend aboard, resolved to
acquaint the mate with all that had occurred relating to Shard's and
Gary's conspiracy against himself. This he did as briefly as possible,
clinching his remarks by holding out the letter.
"I won't read it, though it's right enough you should, seeing it
concerns your safety," replied Duff. "I'm in disgrace, too, so it
might be a good plan for us to stick together--for self preservation, I
mean. We don't want to hurt any one, unless they try to hurt us.
We're scarce in water, and that cruiser ain't going to let us back to
the coast again. You can bank your life on that.
"Captain is in his worst mood, and he ain't likely to get better.
He'll begin on the crew next. They say he is a perfect fiend for
punishment once he gets mad all through. These poor niggers will keep
him half crazy as their want of water grows, and the hot calms strike
us in the doldrums. It's my frank opinion, lad, that we'll be having a
little floating place of torment of our own here before many days have
passed."
The captain's voice hurled down the companionway, interrupted them
harshly.
"He wants his glass," said Ralph, seizing the instrument in question.
"I must go."
"Well," concluded Duff as he returned to his own stateroom, "lay low
and look out for squalls. That's all we can do at present."
When Ralph returned to the deck the wind was stiffening to a gale, and
half a dozen men were putting a single reef into the mainsail, while
several more were laying out along the bowsprit doing the same office
for one of the jibs.
The outermost one, called the flyaway, was being furled, though the
sailor stretched out upon the stay beneath the bowsprit was drenched by
each downward plunge of the schooner's bow. The Adams still carried a
heavy press of canvas, though black specks of men could be seen on the
yards shortening the loftier sails. The larger vessel rode the rising
seas more easily, and had already come within close range.
Gary seized the glass and leveled it at the cruiser, then at the
southwestern horizon, where a dull gray film of vapor was settled upon
the sea.
He handed the glass to Rucker and swore impatiently.
"If we have half an hour more of this wind we're gone up," he growled.
"Our only chance is a fog."
A puff of smoke belched from the port bow of the warship.
"They understand what that fog might do for us as well as we do,"
remarked Rucker, as a shell exploded some distance to leeward.
"They'll get the range in a few minutes, and when one of those twelve
pound bombs explodes in our tops----"
"They see that solid shot won't do," interrupted Gary fiercely. "It is
quick work they are after."
Down in the hold the labored pitching of the schooner was adding
seasickness to the sufferings of the poor wretches there. Doleful
cries resounded, among which one at all conversant with their language
would have heard calls for water predominate.
At night, when darkness reigned, the misery of such a scene would be
augmented.
Several shells were fired by the cruiser, each one coming nearer to the
mark, until at last an explosion just forward of the foretopmast
shivered a double throat block, and down came the foresail, the leech
trailing in the sea as it fell.
Another piece of the shell tore off a sailor's arm, and still another
disabled one of the boats.
Orders from the captain came thick and fast; men flew hither and
thither to repair the damage; while the wounded man lay writhing and
neglected for some time. The Adams all at once slowly yawed, being
within easy range, as the Wanderer lay helpless with her nose in the
wind's eye.
"Look out!" shouted Rucker. "She's making ready to give us a
broadside."
"Lively there, men!" roared Gary, nearly frantic. "Do you want to
spend a year or so in a Yankee jail?"
A redoubled roar from the cruiser followed, and a small tempest of iron
hurtled around them.
One shot passed through the after hold, terrifying anew the negroes,
who yelled fearfully. A rent or two in the sails was all the damage
beside, that was inflicted.
Ralph, who was assisting to reeve a new block at the foretop, saw that
the fog was almost at hand. But before it came a change of wind;
preceding which, as the southeaster died, there were a few moments of
calm.
The lull reached the Wanderer first, and the cruiser, swinging to her
course, forged so far ahead that, before the schooner could again hoist
her foresail, the Adams rounded to, less than half a mile away and
presented a frowning row of shotted guns to the slaver's stern. It was
a fair raking position.
Rucker threw down his speaking trumpet in despair, though Gary's eyes
were fixed keenly upon the advancing fog. A signal for the slaver to
lie to was followed by a peremptory shot athwart the schooner's bow.
At the same time a boat was lowered away, filled with armed men, and
started towards the Wanderer.
"Heave to, men!" ordered the captain. "But be ready to hoist the
fo's'l when I give the word. Down with your helm--down, man!" This to
the man at the wheel. "We mustn't give those fellows any cause to
suspect us--now."
While the boat approached, it was at times lost in the hollows of the
seas, but always rose again nearer than before. Meanwhile the Wanderer
lay to, with her mainsail flattened and her topsails aback.
Apparently she was merely awaiting the arrival of the cruiser's boat to
surrender herself. Many on board thought so now, and, in certain
quarters, bitter were the grumblings over their "hard luck." All this
time Gary, standing at the compass, alternately watched the cruiser and
the approach of the fog, while the schooner, deprived of headway,
rolled in seeming helplessness in the trough of the sea.
"Lad," said Ben to Ralph as the two slid down the ratlines when their
task aloft was done, "I almost wish we were back among those bloody
niggers ashore. 'Twould be better than standin' trial for bein' caught
on a blackguard of a slaver--bad luck to her."
"We must make the best of it," began Ralph, when Gary's voice
interrupted him.
"Hoist away there, men!" cried the captain, brandishing his arms
furiously. "Up with that fo's'l! Up with it, I say! Ease away on
those tops'ls. Lively now! Haul away on that jib. Flatten 'em, boys!"
The men worked like demons, for on the instant they apprehended the
daring nature of Gary's maneuver. Rucker, seizing the trumpet, echoed
the captain's orders in stentorian tones.
It was not until the schooner fell off broadside that these actions
were noticeable to those on the warship. But she could not now fire
without endangering her own boat, which was scarcely fifty yards from
the slaver.
So nicely had Gary calculated, that the breeze bearing the fog struck
the Wanderer's sails just as she was trimmed to fall off. The cruiser,
stricken by the brief calm which had previously palsied the schooner's
movements, lay helpless in a double sense, being unable to either move
or fire.
"Make ready to go about," said the captain to the first mate, who
bellowed the order through his trumpet.
They were nearly abreast of the cruiser's boat, which, seeing at once
what was up, fired an ineffectual volley of small arms as the Wanderer
gracefully swept by, hardly a pistol shot off.
"About ship!" said Gary quietly.
"Hard a lee!" sang out the mate, and as the schooner rushed up into the
wind, Gary, walking to the stern, kissed his hand satirically to the
officers in the boat.
"I've a notion to sink you," he muttered. "One solid shot would do the
business; but perhaps 'twill be best for us to get away, doing as
little damage as possible. It might be safer in case of subsequent
trouble with the authorities."
Close hauled upon her other tack, the schooner was heading diagonally
towards the fog which was just at hand, like a dense, advancing wall.
As they drew away from the boat the cruiser began to fire one gun after
another. Each discharge sent apprehensive thrills through the slaver's
crew. Finally a whole broadside of the warship's upper battery came
shrieking over the water.