Meanwhile everything possible was being tried to get another half knot
of speed out of the _Nautilus_, which glided along under her cloud of
sail, sending the water foaming in an ever-widening double line of
sparkling water on either side. The hose was got to work, and the sails
wetted, sheets were hauled more tightly home, and the captain and
officers walked the decks burning with impatience as they scanned the
distant schooner.
"If I was the skipper I'd be ready for him this time," said Mark to his
companion.
"How? What would you do?"
"Have the boat's crew ready to drop down the moment the slaver captain
pitched another poor fellow overboard. No, no," he added, quickly;
"he'll never be such a wretch as to do that again."
"Oh, won't he just?" cried Bob, nodding his head, a great many times;
"he'll go on chucking the whole cargo out one by one, just like the man
did his gloves and things to the bear, for it to stop and smell them
while he escaped. Here, I mean to go and save the next black chap, and
then perhaps I shall look as cocky as you do. Oh, what a wonderful chap
you are, Van!"
Mark made a quick gesture, as if to hit out at his messmate, and then
looked on in wonder as the captain ordered the cutter's crew back into
the boat, and the men to the falls, ready in case the slaver captain
should repeat his manoeuvre, while the guns were double-shotted and laid
for the moment when the schooner would be once more within range.
"I say," whispered Bob, "don't the skipper look savage? I believe he'd
send a broadside into the schooner if it wasn't for the slaves on
board."
"Of course he would; he said so," replied Mark, and he went forward and
then down below to where, by the dim light of a swinging lantern, he
could see the wild eyes of the black as he lay in a bunk, ready to start
up in dread as the lad approached.
"All right; be still," said the midshipman, laying his hand upon the
man's shoulder, and pressing him back; "how are you?"
The man glared at him in silence, but made no sound.
"It's of no use to talk to you, I s'pose," continued Mark. "There, go
to sleep. Perhaps we shall have some companions for you in the morning.
Hullo! begun again!"
For at that moment there was a dull roar and the jarring sensation of a
gun being fired overhead, making the black start and look wonderingly
about him.
"I say, that startled him," said Bob Howlett, who had stolen down behind
his messmate, and had stood in the semi-darkness laughing at the black's
astonishment. "What do you think of that, old chap? That's some of our
private thunder. Large supply kept on the premises. There goes
another! Here, Van, we mustn't stop below."
For a second report shook the deck, and the black tried to rise, but
sank back from sheer weakness.
"Tell him it's all right, Van, and that he'd better go to sleep."
"How?" replied Mark.
"Ah, 'tis how! I say, what a shame for us to be sent on the west coast
in such a state of ignorance. Here, all right, Massa Sambo. Go to
sleep. I say, do come on, Van, or there'll be a row."
The next minute the two lads were on deck, to find that they were
rapidly overhauling the schooner, and they were just in time to hear the
orders given as the boat was ready to be lowered.
"Come, Mr Howlett, where have you been?"
This from the first lieutenant.
Bob murmured some excuse, and sprang into the boat, which dropped out of
sight directly, and then darted in again as the men bent to their stout
ashen oars, and sent her rapidly in the schooner's wake, where Mark made
out by the troubled water seen through his glass that another poor
fellow had been tossed overboard by the slaver captain, for he rightly
judged that no English officer would leave the black to drown.
He was quite correct in his judgment, for though Captain Maitland had
fumed and declared that he would not give up the chance of capture for
the sake of a black, when he felt that he might seize the schooner and
put an end to the mischief she was doing probably year after year, he
had his vessel's course stayed, and waited patiently for the return of
the boat he had lowered.
The mission of this cutter was almost an exact repetition of the one in
which Mark took part, Bob Howlett having the luck to seize the second
drowning man, over whose body the boathook had slipped.
"And no wonder," growled the coxswain afterwards. "He'd got on no duds,
and I didn't want to stick the hook into his flesh."
While this was going on, the captain stamped above on one side of the
quarter-deck, the first lieutenant on the other. For they kept as far
apart as they could, and it was an understood thing amongst the junior
officers that it would be to come in for the full force of an explosion
to speak to either of them now.
"Pull, men, pull!" roared the first lieutenant through his speaking
trumpet. "Mr Russell, do you want to keep us here all night?"
"Ay, ay, sir," came back from the boat.
"What?"
"No, no, sir; I beg your pardon. We've got the man."
"Got the man!" cried the captain, angrily; "do you think we have no
glasses on board? Make haste, sir."
"Oh!"
"What's that?" cried the captain, sharply, for there had been the sound
of a sharp crack, and Mark had uttered the cry.
"What's that, sir?" cried the lieutenant in a rage; "why it's Mr
Vandean, sir, getting under my feet like a spaniel dog, and the moment I
move he yelps out, sir."
"It wasn't your foot, sir," cried Mark sharply, for his head was
stinging with pain. "You swung round your speaking trumpet, sir, and
hit me."
"Silence, sir! how dare you, sir? You should get out of the way, sir,"
roared the first lieutenant.
"That will do, Staples," said the captain, calming down now. "Now, men,
up with that boat."
The cutter was already swinging from the davits, while at a turn of the
wheel the _Nautilus_ began to forge through the water again, and the men
stood ready for another shot at the flying schooner.
Just then the cutter's crew lifted out the black they had rescued, and
he too sank down helpless on the deck, half dead from exhaustion.
"That's one to me, Van," whispered Bob. "I saved that chap."
"Then you only half did it, Mr Howlett," said the doctor, who overheard
him. "Let me finish."
"I say," whispered Bob, "what a nuisance it's getting, you can't say a
word on board without somebody hearing. Hullo! what's the matter with
your head?"
"Old Staples was in a passion because you were so long, and hit me over
the head with his speaking trumpet."
"Get out--and we weren't so long as you were first time. Russell said
so. What was it? He wouldn't dare to hit you."
"But he did; swung round just when I was behind him."
"Serve you right for being behind him."
"What?" cried Mark, furiously.
"No, no, I mean serve him right for being before you."
"Less talking, young gentlemen," cried the officer of whom they were
speaking, and he looked round at them so sternly that they separated,
each hurrying to his post, and, glass in hand, watching the distant
schooner.
"Look here, Mr Russell," said the captain, walking up to that officer,
as, once more, they began to near the white-sailed vessel gliding along
in the brilliant moonlight. "If that scoundrel tries his cowardly
scheme again, I shall drop you to pick up the poor wretch, and keep on
as hard as we can, or we shall lose her. Save the poor fellow, and then
pull steadily after us. I think I can overhaul her in less than
half-an-hour, and then I shall heave to, and wait for you to come
aboard."
The second lieutenant saluted, and the captain went forward to watch the
schooner.
"Are you coming with me this time, Vandean?" said the lieutenant.
"Yes, I hope so, sir," said the lad.
"Hope, eh? Humph. You don't know what you are talking about, my lad."
"Please don't speak," said Mark, excitedly. "I've got it just right
now. Look sir, look, there's a regular fight going on aboard. They're
getting ready to pitch another man overboard."
The lieutenant raised the glass to his eyes, and immediately gave orders
to the crew to stand ready. Then, following the midshipman's example,
he fixed his glass upon the schooner, and watched her moonlit deck with
its busy dark figures, in the full expectation of seeing another heavy
splash.
But nothing more disturbed the surface of the water but the rush of the
swift schooner, in whose wake lay what looked like an arrow-head of
foam, as the lines diverged from each side of her sharp prow; and as
they neared her the captain grew excited.
"She's going to heave to," he cried.
Just then a shot went skipping along the water, making the sea flash
into silver at every dip, and sped right on in front of the schooner's
bows, a messenger sufficiently faithful to warn the Yankee skipper of
what would be the fate of his vessel if he did not strike his colours,
for the man who aimed that shot could as easily have hulled the swift
craft.
At the captain's words every eye was directed to the American flag which
the skipper was disgracing, but it remained in its place as both vessels
sped on, and a couple more shots were fired and sent through the main
and foresails, which showed, with the aid of the glasses, a couple of
black spots.
That was all.
"He's laughing at us," growled Mr Staples. "Oh, if we could send a few
shots through his wretched craft!"
"And I dare not," cried the captain.
Just then Mark again caught sight of something which was taking place on
the schooner's deck, not five hundred yards from where they pressed on
in pursuit. It was hard to see at that distance, but he made out that a
sturdy black was evidently renewing the struggle which had taken place
before; but in spite of his efforts, he was being dragged to the side;
then, to Mark's horror, a hand was raised and a blow struck, followed by
a splash in the water, which was scattered far and wide, as the young
midshipman closed his glass with his wet hands, feeling as if it had
revealed horrors which he could not bear.
"First cutters!" rang out, and the lad ran to the boat; the captain
repeated his orders to the second lieutenant as the _Nautilus_ was run
on, so as to get as near as possible to the drowning slave before her
speed was checked and her boat lowered. There, all ready in their
seats, the boat's crew waited. The expected moment came as the sails
shivered, the boat kissed the water, the falls were unhooked, and in an
extremely short space of time the _Nautilus_ was gliding on in full
chase, and the cutter's oars were dipping in a quick, regular stroke
which took them wide of the vessel's course, as she literally darted
away.
And now, as he stood up once more on the thwart, to try and make out the
head of the black cast overboard, it struck Mark for the first time that
they were alone upon the wide sea, and that the _Nautilus_ was very
rapidly increasing her distance, while the schooner, to his excited
fancy, already began to look small.
But he had very little time for thinking.
"Be ready with that boathook," shouted the second lieutenant.
"Ay, ay, sir. Mustn't miss this one," muttered the speaker to himself.
"See him, Mr Vandean?"
"No, not yet, sir."
"You ought to, by now. Watch for the rippled water where he is
swimming."
"That's what I am doing, sir," replied Mark, "but I can't see anything."
"He's floating, perhaps. Pull away, my lads. Steady; we don't want to
pass him."
There was a few minutes' silence.
"See him now, Mr Vandean?" said the lieutenant again, and Mark was
silent for a few moments, as he scanned the surface round from beneath
his hand.
"No, sir, no sign of him."
"Oh, don't say that, my lad. Look, look. We mustn't miss the poor
fellow. Strikes me that we're going to pick up the whole cargo this
way. Now then, wasn't that a splash yonder?"
"No, sir, I can't see anything," said Mark sadly; and as he still
eagerly scanned the surface amidst a breathless silence, only broken by
the flapping of the water against the bows of the boat, it again struck
Mark with a chill of awe that they were being left alone there; and he
asked himself what would happen if the _Nautilus_ could not find them
again.
This was momentary, for his attention was taken up by his search, and
the officer said again, in angry impatience now,--"Come, Mr Vandean,
where's this poor fellow? Here, lie to, my lads."
The men ceased rowing, and sat with their oars balanced, looking out on
either side for some sign of the man overboard but there was none, and
Mark heaved a deep sigh.
"Yes," said the lieutenant, as if that sigh were in words; "it's a bad
case, my lad. I am afraid he's gone, poor fellow."
"Someone struck him before he went overboard," said Mark.
"You saw that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then he has gone. We never saw him swimming. I'm afraid we must begin
to row for the ship if we do not see him in a few minutes. She's
leaving us a long way behind."
"I see him, sir," cried the coxswain. "Here he is!"
He made a dash with his boathook, but the object he sought to reach was
so far out, that he overbalanced himself and went in with a heavy
plunge.
"You clumsy dog!" roared the lieutenant. "Back water port, pull
starboard. That's it. Now then, in oars there, and lay hold of him."
The men on the port side obeyed, and in their excitement, three started
up and reached out to seize their struggling comrade, who had hold of a
black arm with one hand, and swam with the other.
"Now then, lay hold quick," roared the lieutenant.
"Mind! Take care!" shouted Mark.
The words were necessary, but useless, for as the men reached over and
raised the coxswain and his burden, the gunwale of the boat sank too
low, there was a rush of water, and in what seemed like one beat of time
the crew were all thrown out, and as they rose to the surface after an
unexpected dive, it was to find the oars floating about, with straw hats
here and there, and a couple of yards away the cutter lying bottom
upwards.
Mark's first instinct as he caught sight of the glistening keel was to
strike out and seize it, his next to look wildly round for help; and now
he fully realised the fact that they were alone and in deadly peril,
with the help that should have been at hand gliding rapidly away.
"Hi! help! your hand!" cried a choking voice close by; and instinctively
Mark stretched out the asked-for help, to feel one hand seized and the
other glide from the slippery keel. The next moment the water was
thundering over his head.