Leaves from a middy's log

An exclamation of mingled astonishment and alarm burst from our lips simultaneously.

The chief, then, had returned—unknown to us—and was himself heading the pursuit. Small chance of escape, indeed, had we under these circumstances.

To my surprise, Ned’s calm demeanour vanished in a moment. He seemed to be seized with a sudden frenzy of passion, and to utterly ignore the dictates of prudence. It was the sight of Miguel, I suppose, that provoked this outburst of anger.

Our pursuers could not see us as we crouched among the underwood.

My coxswain gave vent to some fierce exclamation, and quick as lightning raised his rifle to his shoulder. He was an unerring shot.

“I’ll pay that thundering rascal out now for having me flogged,” I heard him mutter between his teeth, “and send a bullet through his ugly carcass!”

But Mr. Triggs seized him by the shoulder with a grip of iron.

“Drop your rifle instantly!” he said in an authoritative tone; “do you want to betray our hiding-place to them, man?”

Ned had not been trained in a severe school of discipline for nothing. Though his finger was on the point of pressing the trigger, he instantly lowered his weapon. A strange but relieved expression swept over his face as he turned to us. The sudden access of passion had passed away as rapidly as it had arisen.

“Thank you for the reminder,” he said in rather a husky voice. “’Tain’t often I feel in a revengeful mood, but I must confess I was off my chump for a spell, and could think of nothing but corpsing that chap.”

The gunner rose swiftly to his feet.

“Our best foot foremost, and cut and run,” he said in a low but emphatic tone; “’tis our only chance.”

In a moment we had plunged once more into the forest, striking off in a diagonal, downward direction, so as to bury ourselves deeper in the jungle depths, and yet draw nearer to the sea at every step.

Once more the much-dreaded bloodhounds gave tongue, warning us only too palpably of the proximity of our ruthless enemies. The chief and his henchman Miguel had obviously been taking a survey from the lofty rock, hoping to detect some signs of our whereabouts; but now they had evidently taken up the trail again, determined to hunt us down mercilessly.

Ned again constituted himself our guide, and led the way swiftly but noiselessly. Several times we knocked our heads against the pendent creepers and the low branches of the trees, and abraded our shins against fallen trunks and half-hidden rocks; but these little mishaps did not really delay our progress much. The hue and cry in our rear was too terrible a reality, and made us strain every nerve, every muscle.

Could we baffle our relentless enemies? could we outstrip them?

They had dogs, swift of foot and unerring of scent, pertinacious, inured to fatigue, accustomed to the hunting of human beings; and they themselves were active, wiry fellows, fired with angry and revengeful feelings, and thoroughly acquainted with the geography of the country. The odds were largely in their favour; no one could deny that.

Suddenly Ned turned to us with a triumphant look in his face.

“A stream!” he gasped out; “keep up this spurt for a spell, my hearties.”

For some few seconds I had heard the sound of a rushing torrent ahead of us, but had not attached any importance to the fact.

In another minute we were wading knee-deep in a brawling stream, some of the waters of which we scooped up with our hands, and thus quenched the burning thirst which was consuming us.

By Ned’s direction we began wading down-stream, keeping in Indian file, and avoiding snags and rocks as best we could. In some of the pools the water was up to our waists, and we could make but slow progress, especially as it was necessary to make as little noise as possible.

We knew only too well that our pertinacious pursuers had already entered the forest. Occasionally we could hear their shouts and the deep bay of the bloodhounds.

Ned’s plan was to baffle them, and throw the dogs off the scent, by wading for some little distance down the bed of the torrent. Mr. Triggs approved warmly of the plan, for he saw clearly enough that we should soon be hunted down if we kept to our original plan of flight, whereas we might possibly gain half an hour by utilizing Ned’s strategy. That half-hour might save our lives.

We floundered on for a considerable distance, and then emerged on the bank, wet and dripping, and listening intently for any sounds of pursuit. They seemed to have almost died away, but an occasional yell arose from some apparently distant spot in the forest.

Ned was in high feather.

“Well, I didn’t expect to succeed as well as that,” he observed, “for I thought to a dead certainty they’d twig what we was about, and follow down-stream. What a lot of owls they must be!”

“They may discover their mistake at any moment,” said the gunner. “Let’s make tracks for the sea-shore as hard as we can pelt.”

No sooner said than done! Following the downward course of the stream, we once more took to our heels and dashed off over the broken ground, rather handicapped now by our dripping garments and soaked shoes.

We had run about a quarter of a mile, and were inwardly congratulating ourselves on our good fortune, when the blood was almost frozen in my veins by hearing the unmistakable bay of a bloodhound in our rear. So near us was the ponderous beast that we could hear it forcing its way through the underwood as it followed on our spoor.

To my utter amazement Ned seemed pleased at an occurrence which seemed to me to sound our death-knell.

“Good luck! We must swarm a tree!” he cried. “Here’s one will do first-rate.”

I do not know if the gunner felt as bewildered as I did at this fresh strategy of my coxswain. At any rate he said nothing, but signed to me to scramble up the tree Ned had pointed out, the branches of which most fortunately hung low down.

To sailors the feat was a mere trifle, and before many seconds had elapsed we were all three ensconced in a sort of leafy bower, about fifteen feet from the ground.

Ned spoke in a hurried whisper to the gunner.

“Change weapons with me sharp,” he said; “our lives depend upon it.”

Mr. Triggs looked intensely astonished, as well he might, but he knew by the seaman’s emphatic manner that he meant business, and that there was no time for explanations. Indeed, as Ned spoke, he thrust his loaded rifle into the warrant-officer’s hand, and whipped the latter’s sword out of its scabbard. The next moment—like a dream it seemed to me—he was standing at the foot of the tree with the glittering blade in his hand. Just at that very instant I saw a bloodhound, its eyes aflame with anger and its jaws dropping saliva, rush out from behind a clump of trees, and bound fiercely in my coxswain’s direction. It appeared to be alone.

Still it seemed a dream—all a dream!

I was spellbound.

Not so Mr. Triggs! He was instantly alive to the situation, and began scrambling down from the tree with great precipitation, carrying the rifle with him—not an easy feat by any means even for a sailor!

It seemed to me that the fierce dog only took a couple of prodigious bounds, and then sprang deliberately at Ned, utterly regardless of the deadly sword blade. Like a man-eating tiger, he evidently relied upon his weight and the suddenness of his attack.

I saw my coxswain aim a blow at the huge brute as it rushed in upon him; but the next instant I saw him borne backwards to the ground as the animal closed with him. At the same instant I caught sight of the gunner raising his rifle to his shoulder as if with the intention of blowing out the bloodhound’s brains.

It was no longer a dream, but a living tragical reality; and there was I, safely ensconced in a tree, while my daring shipmates were fighting for their lives with what was practically a savage wild beast! Of course I saw now that Ned had unselfishly wished to place us in safety before confronting the bloodhound single-handed. Recalled to myself, and anxious to lend any assistance that lay in my power, I hastily commenced to descend the tree; but as ill-luck would have it, I grasped a rotten branch, which came away in my hand, and I was precipitated to the ground—fortunately from no great height. As I fell, I fancied I heard loud snarling and a deep moan. The next instant I was on my feet again, feeling rather confused, but having suffered nothing but one or two bruises. I was immensely relieved by the sight that met my gaze, which made an impressive tableau.

The bloodhound lay stretched out on the ground, stone-dead, with a puncture in the region of the heart. Ned was kneeling on the ground close to the body of his assailant, and holding a gory sword in his right hand. Leaning upon his rifle, and gazing down at the defunct beast, stood Mr. Triggs.

“’Tis a good job, Ned,” the latter was saying, “that I didn’t let fly at the beast. The report of my rifle would have brought a nest of hornets about our ears, I’m thinking.”

“That it would,” answered my coxswain, wiping his sword in a tussock of long grass; “but how it is them swabs have got separated from their dog beats me.”

“Well, it’s the fortune of war,” said the gunner grimly, “and we must be thankful for it. At the same time, mind you, they may not be a hundred miles away, and we had better make ourselves scarce, and steer for the sea-shore with steam up in all boilers.”

Ned sprang to his feet, and after inquiring of me whether I was hurt by my fall out of the tree, he proposed that we should secrete the bloodhound’s body for fear it should be discovered by the pirates.

This was good advice, and we proceeded to act upon it. The dog’s body was cumbrous and heavy, but by our united exertions we dragged it to the edge of a neighbouring ravine and cast it down. As this particular chasm was fringed with bushes and underwood, it would not have been an easy matter to detect anything lying among the rocks at the bottom of it.

I told my shipmates that I felt sure that if the other bloodhound was still at large, it would be certain, sooner or later, to scent out Ned’s victim.

The latter, we knew, was the pirate chief’s bloodhound, as we had instantly recognized it by its mutilated ear.

“Flaying alive would be too good for me now if ever I’m nobbled,” said Ned, as we once more set out at a sharp run; “leastways if that cut-throat head of the gang knew that I’d settled the hash of his highly prized bow-wow.”

“How did you manage to kill the brute?” I asked. “It was an awful sight to see it fly at you, and I thought I saw it knock you over.”

“Well, it just did bowl me over and no mistake, sir, but I fancied that something better was in store for me than to be popped off by a furriner’s dog, and so I kept as cool as a cowcumber, and let drive with the sword just as the beast was on top of me, as it were. My killing it was a bit of a fluke, there’s no denying that, for I didn’t know the bearings of his heart in the least.”

“You’ve rid us of our worst foe, Ned,” I said, “and given us a much better chance of escape.”

“That was in my mind, of course,” said the seaman. “Thinks I to myself, ‘Here’s that blooming dog close astarn of us, and somehow got separated from his mate and his owners. What a chance to put him out of the way on the quiet! Jiggered if I don’t slit his weasand for him.’ Well, I did something more effectual than that, Mr. Darcy; and here we are, with a fair start again, and I hopes as how we’ll stick to it.”

It certainly seemed like a turning-point in our fortunes; for though we even now heard some occasional shouts, they seemed to be at a considerable distance, and we could not detect any baying from the other bloodhound. I do not know whether I mentioned the fact before, but I had been rather sceptical as to this latter animal being upon our trail at all—at any rate during the last half-hour.

We still suffered a great deal of discomfort from our wet clothes and boots, but we ran gamely on, knowing that everything depended on our speed.

At length, without further misadventure, we emerged from the jungle, and found ourselves on a rather extensive expanse of sandhills, beyond which lay the blue sea, still darkened by the dun volcanic clouds which hung in mid-air.

“Is that a boat?” asked Ned, excitedly.