Chapter Forty Four.
Wet Dust in the Eye.
It was the precursor of a terrible tropic tempest, with bluish lightning that was blinding, while the roar of heaven’s artillery was incessant. But not a man blenched as the rowers bent to their oars, gladdened by the feeling that the current was with them, as they sent the boat rapidly along for their last halting-place. But a mile had hardly been covered when, with a wild shriek and roar, down came the rain, not in showers or in drops, but in sheets so heavy that before a minute had elapsed every one was drenched, and soon after two of the men had to begin to bale.
To proceed was impossible, and braving the risk, the boat was rowed beneath the overhanging branches of one of the monarchs of the primeval forest which reached its limbs far out over the stream, and there, somewhat protected, the boat was moored. For quite a couple of hours the little party crouched in the bottom, aiding the shelter by spreading the sail over the awning, the men holding on to keep the canvas from being swept off by the howling gale, while the rain poured off in buckets-full, as the men said.
Then a new danger attacked them. The stream swelled and swelled till the boat rose feet higher and was forced in among the low-hanging branches, while the great risk now was that they might be swept out and along the furious torrent into which the sluggish river had been turned.
But just as it seemed impossible to hold on any longer, and when the forest on either side had become river too, the rain ceased as suddenly as it had begun, the wind dropped, and the clouds began to pass away, while in less than an hour the sun was shining brightly down, and huge clouds of steam floated over the flooded land.
It was impossible to cast off from their mooring, for every man agreed that to follow the course of the rushing water would mean that they would be swept away from the river and in all probability be capsized before they had gone many hundred yards.
There was nothing for it, then, but to bale hard and free the boat from water, wring out and try to dry their saturated garments, and do what they could in the way of drying the sail and awning, in the hope that the flood would soon pass away.
Fortunately Cross was soon able to announce that the water was sinking, and this continued so rapidly that before many hours had passed they were able to put off once more into the stream, which had pretty well returned to the limits of its banks; and the drying of their clothes and of such stores as had suffered followed in rapid course.
But it was a disheartening commencement of their journey back to the main river, and darkness fell upon a desolate and terribly depressed company, who passed the night of solitude and despair wondering what had happened at the anchorage where the brig had been left careened.
Rodd had tried to whisper comfort to his comrade, but only to be met with imploring words, the lad begging to be allowed to sit and think; and Rodd respected his prayer.
No better fortune attended him with Uncle Paul, who sternly bade him be silent.
“I too must think, my lad,” he said—“and pray.”
The silence was shared by the sailors, who only indulged in a whisper now and then.
And how the rest of that night passed away Rodd hardly knew. Of one thing only was he quite certain, and that was that sleep never visited the occupants of that boat.
Daylight at last, when such provisions as were absolutely necessary were partaken of as the boat went steadily down-stream, for there was water enough in the river still to have completely changed its sluggish character, while this was hailed by the men with delight, seeing that it helped their course, while wherever the wind was available the sail was hoisted and they sped along, every one keeping a sharp look-out for their last bivouac but one, it having been decided amongst them that they must have been swept by that one, which was hidden by the swollen stream.
But in spite of the keen observation of the sailors and the sharp look-out by the doctor and the two lads, that day passed without the familiar sandy embayment among the trees being sighted, and before long it became a certainty that they were gliding along a different channel to any they had passed before.
The flood might have altered the stream to a certain extent, but they passed banks that were certainly different, and just at dusk when a brisk breeze was blowing they glided through an opening among the trees which did not seem familiar, and the question arose, should they turn back?
But before it was settled, darkness fell, and another dismal night was passed.
The next day broke bright and fine, and encouraged thereby, every man was keenly on the alert to try and sight one of the Spaniard’s halting-places; but it was long before such an opening was found, and then when it was hailed with delight as their resting-place at the end of that day’s work, it was forced upon them that they had never been there before.
Fortunately, though their stores were diminished in quantity, fish were plentiful, and every now and then a bird fell to Rodd’s or the doctor’s gun, for it was felt to be a necessity, as more and more all realised that they were involved in a perfect labyrinth or network of watery ways, and that their stores should be supplemented. For opening after opening in the great walls of verdure kept presenting itself, nearly always involving the party in a dispute as to whether they had been there before, till their mental confusion became greater, their ideas more sadly confused, and the tract of low-lying water-netted country, far from seeming the paradise through which they had glided on their way up, now seemed the dwelling-place of despair.
“Isn’t there one of you who can guide us aright?” cried the doctor despairingly. “Is it possible that what seemed so easy to that treacherous Spanish wretch should prove such a horrible problem to us all?”
For a time no one spoke, the men hanging their heads, and by way of showing their earnestness tugging harder at their oars. But at the next appeal Joe Cross was egged on to make some answer.
“You see, sir,” he said, “there isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for you. The lads here are sharp enough, but they wants a handle to work them. We are only sailors, used to having an officer over us, and without him we aren’t much account.”
“Oh,” groaned the doctor to Rodd, “and I cannot direct them! Rodd, boy, my brain feels as if it were giving way.”
“Don’t be down-hearted, sir. Don’t chuck up your pluck, young gentlemen,” continued the poor fellow earnestly. “We must get out at last. It all seemed so easy as we come up; but without that Spanish chap, and now that it seems to be all turned upside down like, as we are coming back’ards, it’s like looking for a needle in a bottle of hay. You see, me and my messmates have turned it all over in our heads, and it always comes to this, that that storm either made us take a wrong turning, or else that that Spaniard took us into a tangle of watercourses out of which no one but him and them niggers could find the way.”
“Yes, yes,” said the doctor; “we were thoroughly trapped into what has proved to be a horrible maze.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” cried Joe. “And amazing it is; but we are not going to give up, sir. Wish we may all die if we do; for you see, it must all come right at last. We have a lot of provisions, plenty of powder and shot; we can’t fail for fresh water, which is a great thing for sailors; there’s wood enough to make fires for five hundred years; and as for good fish to eat, why, you could almost catch them with your hands.”
“No, my men,” said the doctor, more firmly, “we are not going to despair, for if we keep going down-stream we must reach the main river at last.”
“That’s what I keep thinking, uncle,” cried Rodd; “but every time we turn out of one of these rivers we seem to get into another, and I want to know why it is that we have never yet come upon a sandy patch where we made a fire.”
Embayments of this kind they found again and again during the next few days of their, so to speak, imprisonment in this labyrinth, and in which they were fain to halt for food and sleep; but whether the flood had obliterated all signs of their occupation, or whether the places were absolutely fresh, they never knew.
One thing was determined on, and that to keep on with dogged British obstinacy till the problem was solved, and after losing count of the days that they had spent in the forest, and after vain usage of the compass, which had only seemed to lead them more and more astray, they had their reward one noon, when the boat was run up on to the sand of a forest nook which seemed strikingly familiar, and Rodd and Morny both sprang out, gun in hand, followed by Joe Cross, who excitedly cried—
“All right, gentlemen! Here we are at last! I’d just swear to this tree and that other big one right across the river.”
“Yes,” cried the doctor; “this, I am quite certain, is where we set up our tent the night we missed our guide.”
“The morning, uncle,” cried Rodd. “Yes, boy; I should have said the morning. Look, Morny! You do not speak. Isn’t this our last halting-place on our way up?”
The French lad gave his hands a despairing wave in the air.
“Yes,” he said; “that’s what I feel, sir. Why, we have been all these weary, weary days trying to get back to the river so that we might row away to the brig, and this is the spot from which we started!”
“Well, gentlemen,” cried Joe Cross, “I say hooray to that. Yes, this is the place, aren’t it, messmates?”
“Yes, yes,” came in an excited chorus, for the discovery seemed to have sent a thrill of joy through all the men.
“That’s right, messmates,” cried Joe. “Then all we have got to do now, gentlemen, is to try and take our bearings right, rub the wet dust out of all our eyes, and make a fresh start.”
“The wet dust, Joe!” cried Rodd, with the nearest approach to a smile which had appeared upon his face for many days. “Here, uncle, get out the compass, and let’s see what we can do with that.”
“No,” said the doctor quietly. “We must make a fresh start, but it must be calmly and well, and after food and a good night’s rest. Collect wood, my lads, to make a fire. Boys, take your guns and go up-stream a little higher where we have never been before, and shoot what birds you can. Two or three of you men do what you can from the shore with the fishing-lines. To-morrow morning we will start calmly and trustingly to the river once again. Be of good heart, Morny, my lad, for the end of our awful struggle must be coming near, and every one of us must do all he can to help his brother for the one great end.”
A cheer rose at the doctor’s words, and the change in the whole party was wonderful.
All worked with such energy that long before darkness set in the tent was rigged up for the night, a good meal had been prepared, and almost as full of hope as on the night when they had last encamped there for their rest, a couple of hours were pleasantly passed before the fire was once more made up and the watch set. Very soon afterwards all were plunged in a deep and restful sleep, one from which Rodd and Morny were startled by a terrific clap of thunder. Then the interior of their tent was lit up by a vivid blue flash of lightning, by which they saw the watch—Joe Cross and one of the sailors leaning over them, the former saying—
“There’s going to be an awful—”
“Storm,” he would have said, but his words were drowned by another crash which came instantly upon a sheet of lightning, and pretty well stunned them with its roar.
Chapter Forty Five.
Storm Waters.
In the intervals between the almost incessant peals of thunder Joe Cross informed the lads that the storm had been coming on for the last three hours, faint and distant at first, the merest mutterings, and gradually increasing till it was the terrific tempest now raging.
“They must have had it horrid, sir, somewhere, only I don’t suppose there’s no people. What we had before was nothing to it.”
“There,” cried the doctor, “something must be done to the boat in the way of making it thoroughly secure.”
“Can’t be no securer, sir. We’ve got her moored head and stern to a tree, and two grapnels down as well.”
“Capital,” cried the doctor. “Well thought of! But we must have the sail and some of the canvas that we have got here spread over the boat to keep the water out.”
“That’s done, sir, as far as the stuff would go, and now I want what we have got up here, before the rain comes.”
“Down with it at once,” said the doctor; and in an incredibly short space of time the tent was struck, what they had ashore was transferred to the boat, and she was covered in as much as was possible.
And none too soon, for the party had only just embarked when a few heavy drops of rain came pattering down upon the tightened canvas, soon increasing to quite a deluge, but, with the peculiarity of a tropic storm, just when it was beginning to try the canvas and threatening to soak the interior of the boat, it ceased almost instantaneously, and they sat listening to the rushing sound of the rain as it swept over the forest, rapidly growing more distant till it died away.
“Gone!” cried Rodd excitedly. “We didn’t want any more troubles, and it would have been dreadful to have been wet through again.”
“Don’t be too hopeful, my boy,” said Uncle Paul. “That may only be the advance guard of a far worse storm. It seems too much to think this is the end.”
“It might be all, sir,” said Joe Cross, “for it’s been an awful bad ’un, going on for hours in the distance.”
“Then we shall be having the water rise again,” cried Uncle Paul.
“Yes, sir; that’s what I thought,” replied the man, “and why I moored the boat so fast.”
“Quite right,” cried the doctor, “for likely enough we shall be having the water coming down from far away, and we must hold on here at any cost, or we shall be lost again.”
“What time do you suppose it is, Joe?” asked Rodd.
“Wants about a couple of hours to daylight, sir.”
“Morning!” cried the lads together. “Ah, then it will be easier to bear!”
During the rest of the darkness it was evident that the storm had passed over them. There were a few distant mutterings of thunder and little flickerings of lightning which grew fainter and fainter, to die away in the west.
The sailors crept out from beneath their awning on to the sand, and were able to announce that the river had only risen a few inches, and the rain that had fallen had rapidly soaked in and drained off, while a pleasant cool air swept briskly over them from the east, heralding a fresh bright dawn, which came at last with all the promise of a glorious day.
With some difficulty a fire was started, but once begun the men soon contrived to get up sufficient for the hurried breakfast; the canvas was struck where necessary, and the rest spread to dry in the coming sunshine; and then all being ready for their next start, the doctor consulted with the coxswain, who after a little pressing gave his opinion as to what would be the best course to take.
“You see, sir,” he said, “I have been thinking that I could get us back to our last camping-place; I mean, before we came here.”
“Well, that’s what we all thought before, Joe,” cried Rodd pettishly.
“Wait, Rodney, my boy, and let Cross finish,” said the doctor.
“I’ve about done, sir,” said the man. “What Mr Rodd says is quite true, but he aren’t quite got what I mean. You see, sir, when we come up here with the Spanish skipper aboard I sat astarn steering, and when we went away again I had hold of the tiller once more, same as before.”
“Well, we know that,” said Rodd shortly. “Be silent, Rodney!” cried the doctor. “Go on, Cross.”
“Well, sir, when we come I was looking this ’ere way; when we started back I was looking t’other way. Now it seems to me, now we are going to start again, if instead of sitting astarn and looking straight forward, if I was to go and sit right in the bows and left somebody else to steer while I looked over his head, I should be looking up both sides of the river just as it was when we were coming, and I should see the landmarks again as I saw them when we were coming here, and consekently I should know my way better, and I don’t think I should miss the next landing-place again.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” cried Rodd excitedly. “Why, to be sure, Joe! Don’t you see, uncle?”
“Yes,” cried the doctor. “Quite right, Cross. We will start at once, going as slowly as we can, and we will, all but the steersman, ride backwards, keep a sharp look-out, and help.—What’s the matter, Morny?”
For the young Frenchman had suddenly started up in the boat, to stand peering in the direction that they were about to take, and held up his hand as if to command silence.
“What’s that?” cried Rodd, leaping up too.
“What?” asked the doctor.
“Sounds like distant roaring of some kind of wild beast, sir,” said one of the men.
“That it aren’t, messmate,” said Joe, who had also risen to his feet, and stood with his hand behind his ear. “It’s another storm coming. Nay, it aren’t. It’s all bright and clear that way. Why, it’s water, gentlemen, coming with a rush from just the way we want to go.”
“Impossible!” cried the doctor. “Why, it would be against the stream.”
“I don’t care, sir, begging your pardon. I’ve been in the Trent and the Severn and the Wye. It was only when I was a boy, but I recollect right enough. It’s what they used to call a bore, with a great wave of water coming up the river like a flood and washing all before it.”
“Had we better land?” cried the doctor.
“And lose our boat, sir? No. Be smart, my lads. It can’t be very far away. All eight of you, oars out, and we must keep our head to it so as we can ride over the big wave and let it pass under us. I don’t suppose there will be much of it. It’s a sort of flood water coming down from yonder after the storm, and it will soon be over. Don’t you worry about it, gentlemen. It will be nothing to a big wave at sea.”
The men made ready with all the discipline of a trained crew, and heads were turned in the direction of the increasing sound, while it seemed hard to believe, in the midst of the brilliant sunshine, with the smooth river gliding onwards as if to meet the supposed wave, that there could be anything wrong.
The expected danger had seemed to be close at hand, but it had been far more distant than the party had supposed, for the roar went on steadily increasing, but with no other suggestion of peril save the noise, though that was enough to make the stoutest-hearted there quail.
It seemed an age, but was certainly less than an hour, before the dull heavy roar began to be mingled with a strange crashing and breaking sound which puzzled all, till the coxswain, who was standing up in the bows, boat-hook in hand, announced that it was the breaking of trees and crashing together of their branches as they were being torn up by the roots.
“Impossible!” said the doctor impatiently.
“Nay, sir, it aren’t,” said the man. “I don’t mean the big trees, but the little ’uns along the banks; and it’s getting close here, sir. It’s a big flood, that’s what it is, coming down from the mountains, for there must be some inland. There! Look yonder. Can’t you see the trees beginning to wave? It’s just as if a lake had broke loose and was coming sweeping over the country. You, Harry Briggs, hold fast to that tiller. You others, look at your work, and pull. Turn your heads, you lubbers! I’ll do all the looking out. And when I say row, every mother’s son of you pull for his life.”
Joe Cross’s words were beginning to sound indistinct before he had finished, half-smothered as they were by the increasing roar, as from far down the river a dark line of something could be seen rising some six or eight feet like a huge bank extending right across the river and apparently into the forest on both sides.
For as far as eye could reach the trees seemed to be in a strange state of agitation, the lower branches bending towards the party in the boat, as if beneath the blast of a tremendous gale.
“Sit fast, boys, every one!” yelled Joe; but he stood upright himself, and the next minute with a wild rush a great bank of water was upon them, seeming to come with a leap and dash, to plunge beneath the boat’s bows as if to toss her on high and roll her over and over in the flood. But as it struck them the trained men sat for a moment or two, till in little more than a whisper above the roar of water, Joe Cross’s voice was heard to give the order “Pull,” when seven balanced oars dipped together, and the bows began to sink.
The men got well hold of the water, and after three or four rapid tugs the boat sat level once more upon the surface of the flood, obeyed her helm, and though being carried rapidly along stern on, she shipped very little water, and in a very few minutes the greater peril was passed.
The crashing roar and rush of the water was almost deafening, but Joe retained his upright position and signalled with one hand to the steersman, while he followed suit to the rowers, who kept up a steady pull against the furious stream, with the result that now the boat sped on stern foremost at the same rate as the flood.
But the frail craft was exposed to endless risks as the water rushed along between the two great walls of verdure which marked out the devious winding course of the river. Time after time they were within an ace of being swept amidst the boughs of some towering tree; at others they were brushing over the tops of the shrub-like growth; and yet amidst the many dangers the crew never flinched, but kept on for hour after hour, head to stream, with the boat always being borne onward along straight reaches and round winding curves which looped and almost doubled back, till at last the violence of the flood grew less, leaving them more and more behind, till the greatest danger was over and the speed at which they glided was reduced to nearly half that of the first rush of the flood.
Another hour passed, and they were still gliding on, and now as they were swept into a wider reach, it was plain to see how the whole forest was flooded on either side, apparently to the depth of some six or eight feet, as near as the coxswain could judge.
Four times over he had drawn attention to the fact that they were passing the entrances to similar rivers to that down which they sped, one of them being remarkable for the fact that a portion of their stream set right into it, while from the others it glided out in the opposite way. Soon afterwards, with a little clever scheming, the boat was guided into an eddy where the water swirled round comparatively slack; and here her head was turned and she resumed her strange journey onward in the normal way.
The men’s labour too now had pretty well ceased, only a dip or two of the oars being required occasionally to keep the boat’s head straight and make her answer her helm.
And now conversation became more general. The danger being evidently over, one man hazarded a joke, something about a near shave, while another said it was a pity because they would have all this ’ere work to go over again.
Joe Cross heard the remark, and this started him talking, as he laid down his boat-hook and wiped his streaming face.
“Yes, Mr Rodd,” he said, “you wanted to come farther up the river, and here you have had it. Well, I suppose when the flood’s spread all over it will do same as they always does, begin to drain off again and carry us back. But I am afraid, Dr Robson, sir, that I must give up what I undertook to do.”
“What?” cried the doctor.
“Ride back’ards, sir, and find the way out of this wet cat’s-cradle of a place. I am very sorry, sir.”
“Sorry!” cried the doctor cheerily. “My good fellow, what you have done during the last few hours has earned the lasting gratitude of us all.”
“Has it, sir?” said the man, staring. “Why?”
“Haven’t you saved all our lives,” cried the doctor, “by your clever management of the boat?”
“Oh, that’s what you mean, sir! But you must play fair, sir. You mustn’t blame me for that. Part on it’s my being on board a man-of-war; part on it’s due to Captain Chubb. So you must thank him.”
The doctor smiled, and noting this absence of anxiety, Rodd broke out with—
“I say, uncle, Morny’s starving. Isn’t it time we had something to eat?”
“Oh, Rodd!” cried Morny.
“Yes, of course,” replied the doctor. “See what you can do, cook, at once. But surely, Cross, some of the men might lay in their oars?”
“Yes, sir, and if it goes on like this I don’t see that we need let this flood keep on carrying us farther away. There’s a nice wind, and not so much washed-out wood afloat. I am thinking I might have the sail hoisted and begin to sail back. But my word, look here: how we are widening out, sir! Look ahead yonder. It’s getting ’most like a lake. Perhaps it is one.”
“No,” cried Rodd; “it’s the river still. Look yonder at the forest right along the bank.”
“Yes, sir, but I was looking at the forest on both sides here where we are. Why, we are running into another river. It aren’t a lake, but it’s ten times as big as this one that we’ve been spinning along, and— Well! it’s a rum ’un! No; it’s unpossible.”
“What’s impossible?” cried Rodd sharply, and all gazed at the sailor, who sat looking forward, holding on by one ear and scratching the other.
“Why, this ’ere, Mr Rodd, sir. Just you look, Dr Robson, and see what you think on it.”
“Of what, my man?”
“Why, this ’ere, sir, what I am asking you of. Can’t you see, Mr Rodd, sir?”
“I can see that we are gliding out of a muddy stream covered with green twigs and great tufts of jungle grass, into a big river flowing right across us and all thick with what seems to be a different-coloured mud.”
“That’s right, sir; and didn’t you see that splash, just as far off as you could look?”
“No, Joe.”
“Would you mind lending me that there glass of yourn, sir?” said Joe to the doctor, who passed the little field-glass to the man, whose hands trembled as he focussed it to suit his eye, and he once more stood up in the boat and swept the water as far as he could see.
“Thank you, sir,” he said, handing it back. “Perhaps you would like to have a look yourself. But it’s all right, gentlemen, and my lads. Them’s crocs out yonder, and we have been washed out into the big river again with no more trouble; and if we don’t see our brig and our schooner again before many hours, why, my name aren’t Joe!”
Chapter Forty Six.
A Knot in the Network.
Incredulity was impossible, although at first it was very hard to believe. But there was the fact. They had been wandering through the sluggish network of streams of a vast tropic, marshy forest, until a tremendous storm in the hinterland had flooded the low country and they had been swept out again far away from the spot where the Spanish captain had guided them in, and, as they were soon to learn, for reasons of his own.
Without question they had descended some miles along the main river, which ran swiftly, burdened as it was by the waters of the flood, but not sufficiently to do more than raise it to a rather abnormal height. Still it was not safe to continue their journey downward by night, and in spite of the anxiety of all, the boat was moored to a huge tree up which the water had risen some three or four feet, and all anxiously watched for the coming of the next day. They slept but little, for there was so much to discuss, the doctor feeling now sure that when they missed the Spanish captain it must have been because when all were asleep he had stolen down to where the two blacks would be waiting for him with their canoe, and then gone on up the river beyond their camp.
“But I don’t see quite what for, uncle,” said Rodd.
“I do,” cried Moray. “He knew the country so well, and our ignorance, which would make us go wandering helplessly about, while he knew of a nearer way out into this river again, through which we seem to have been providentially swept.”
“That’s right—quite right, Moray,” said the doctor. “You see now, Rodd?”
“Yes, uncle, it’s quite clear now. I wish I wasn’t so dense. Do you see, Joe?”
“I didn’t afore, sir; but it’s all as clear as crystal now, and I should just like to explain it to the lads. My word, gentlemen! That chap’s been running up a big bill again hisself, and when we get hold of him he’ll have to pay!”
“What are you thinking of, Moray?” said Rodd, a little while after, while they were sitting listening in the darkness to the murmur of Joe’s voice forward as he was explaining matters to the men.
“I was thinking,” said Moray gravely, “of how long it would be before it is day.”
The longest night comes to an end, and the breaking of that next day showed the river much sunken and pretty well at its normal tidal height; and with four men rowing steadily the boat glided downward, with the sun when it rose showing first one and then another landmark which seemed familiar; but after their one journey upward no one present could recall how far they were above the careening place.
Again and again as they passed round some great bend Moray rose from his seat, and, as Rodd afterwards told him, made them all miserable by gazing wildly downwards in the expectation of catching sight of the brig, or of seeing his father in his boat coming upward in search of the missing ones, who had quite outstepped the time that their stay was to last.
It was always the same; the poor fellow sank back into his place wearily, his countenance drawn and a look of despair in his eyes. At such times Rodd would watch his opportunity, steal his hand quietly along, and give Morny’s arm a long and friendly grip, with the result that the dim eyes would brighten a little and dart a grateful glance in the English lad’s direction.
The journey downwards seemed endless, and proved to be far longer than any one there anticipated. But just as the longest and darkest watch nights come to their end, so it was here, when, skimming along under sail, taking long reaches, for the wind was abeam, all at once Joe Cross, who was the first to see, sang out a loud and hearty—
“Ship ahoy!”
“Hah!” cried Morny. “Do you see the brig?”
“No, sir,” replied the man, as Morny, the doctor and Rodd shaded their eyes and gazed down-stream; “I can’t make out the brig.”
“Oh, you don’t half look,” cried Rodd. “There’s the Spanish schooner, and ours, and just beyond them, half hidden by the trees and land, there are the tops of the masts of the brig. Hurrah, Morny! She’s all right, afloat, and— Here, what are you looking that way for?”
“Because I can’t see her,” said the French lad despairingly. “There is something wrong.”
“Why, my dear old chap,” cried Rodd, “you can’t see well, because of the trees, but as we get farther out, there she lies, to the left, with her two masts as plain as plain.”
“I can see those two masts you mean,” said Morny sternly, “but they are low-down raking masts; the Dagobert’s are much higher, and stand up stiffer than those. Do you forget she’s square-rigged? Why, that’s a schooner.”
“So it is,” cried Rodd. “I was deceived by the two yards on her foremast. But look here, it can’t be another schooner. Captain Chubb may have been altering her rig when he got her upright again. Why, of course! It must be so. There can’t be three schooners there. They must have had some accident to the brig’s mainmast when they raised her again. Broke her topgallant, perhaps, and rigged her fore and aft.”
“Not they, Mr Rodd, sir. Our old man would have cut a spar somewhere from the forest and rigged her square, if it was only a jury-mast. ’Sides, they’d got spare spars on board, same as we. That’s another schooner. You can see her clearer now—a long low one, with masts that rake more than the Spanish skipper’s vessel. Strikes me as we shall find that for some reason or another they haven’t got the brig afloat.”
“Another schooner, Joe?” cried Morny passionately. “The brig not finished? For some reason or another! What reason? What does it all mean?”
“Be calm, my lad; be calm,” cried the doctor. “In a very little while we shall know the worst, or the best. Mind, we know nothing as yet. It is all suspicion. For aught we can say to the contrary, that man whom we have condemned may be innocent, misjudged by us, and now be lying at the bottom of the river where we missed him in that mysterious way.”
Morny bowed his head and tried to look gratefully at the doctor; but his agony was too great, and he stood there till their boat had got to the end of its tack and swung round in the other direction, when with shaded eyes he gazed before him wildly, trying to get a view beyond where the three schooners could now be plainly seen, anchored in mid-stream.
But for some time the curvature of the river put this out of the question, and to break the painful silence the doctor said quietly—
“Another long low schooner, with raking masts. But it may be only another trader, anchored in company with the rest.”
“Ah,” cried Morny to Joe Cross, “you see something more than we do!” For the man, who was looking out from beyond the sail, suddenly gave a start and angrily slapped his thigh.
“Well, I’m very sorry, sir; but yes, I do. The brig’s lying careened right over, just as she was when we started on our trip.”
“But look here, Morny,” cried the doctor; “that may mean nothing more than that she is not finished yet. Remember, to those we left we are missing, and in their anxiety about our lengthened stay they may have started up-stream to find us.”
“You are saying this to comfort me,” cried Morny passionately. “No, doctor; we have got to face the worst. It is not so.”
It seemed cruelty to prolong the conversation, and soon after the order was given to lower the sail and unstep the mast, for the wind had pretty well dropped as they swept in towards where the vessels were anchored, and the distance being short, the men took to their oars once more, while, with no impediment to their view, the doctor took out his glass and offered it to Morny. But the lad made a quick gesture, and sat back looking straight before him, while the doctor used the glass himself, gazing with it first at the brig, about whose hull no one was visible, while all seemed still on board the three schooners.
“Take a look, Rodney,” said the doctor aloud, as he handed the glass. “I can see nothing wrong.”
Rodd eagerly took the glass, raised it to his eyes, and said quietly—
“Why, I can’t see a soul on board the Sally, uncle, and the people on the other schooners must be asleep. They haven’t seen us yet— Yes, they have!” he cried. “The men are hurrying up on our vessel from below, but—”
“But what, my boy?”
“I—I don’t quite know, uncle. Something isn’t right. Oh, Morny, what have I said?”
As the boy spoke he let the glass drop to the full length of his arm, and in all probability it would have fallen to the bottom of the boat had not Joe Cross caught it in his hand.
“May I look, sir?” he said sharply, and without waiting for consent, he raised it to his eyes and quickly scanned all three of the schooners in turn.
“It’s no use beating about, gentlemen,” he said sharply. “Something is wrong, for all three decks are swarming now with men like bees—wasps, I ought to say,” he muttered, as he concentrated his gaze upon the Maid of Salcombe. “Our vessel, doctor, is in the hands of pirates, or slavers, and they are making ready the long gun. Now, my lads, look alive. Every man buckle on his arms and then load.”
The oars were allowed to swing from the tholes, and the boat was left to glide slowly downwards, while in their smart orderly way her crew prepared for action.
“You will load too, gentlemen—with ball. Now, doctor, will you take command and lead us?”
“What to do?” asked the doctor.
“Why, to take our schooner again, sir. She’s in the hands of an enemy.”
“But is it possible that we can do this, Cross?” cried the doctor.
“I don’t know, sir, for she’s got a lot of men on board; but we have got to try.”
“Stop. Let me think,” said the doctor. “I am no man of war, and this is not in my way. If any unfortunate fellow were wounded I could do my best. But look here, my lads; you are nearly all men-of-war’s men, and you, Morny, you are a naval officer. Seeing the odds before us, what is our duty here?”
“To fight,” cried the young man passionately, through his clenched teeth.
“Ay, ay, sir!” came heartily from the men; and as the doctor turned his eyes inquiringly upon Rodd, who was fiercely ramming the second bullet upon the small shot already in the two barrels of his gun, he saw a look in the lad’s face that he had never seen there before, and in spite of the pain of the situation, he felt a thrill of satisfaction running through his breast at the thought that, young as his nephew was, he was English to the core.
“Yes,” said the doctor, “we must fight; but with such odds against us we must bring cunning to bear.”
“Ay, ay, sir! That’s right,” cried Cross. “But perhaps, as we’ve got right on our side and only a set of mongrels before us, a good bold dash to board them will make us as strong as they. I say, sir, if you will let me lead, we will try and take our schooner, give them a broadside of bullets when we get close up, and then out steel and board her like men. Once over her side, there won’t be many of them left on deck at the end of five minutes; and as soon as we have got her and the use of her guns, if we don’t sink them other two pirates I have never been to sea.”
“That’s right, Joe,” came in chorus, as, standing in the bows with one hand upon his gun, the other upon his right hip, he looked the very perfection of a British man-of-war’s man, ready to lead or be led, wherever duty called.
Then, as if inspired by his appearance, the crew burst out into a ringing cheer, helped by the two lads, while the doctor took off and waved his straw hat as he joined in. Bang—thud!
A great grey puff of smoke started from the schooner’s deck and a ball came skipping in their direction over the smooth stream.
“Well, I do call that too bad,” cried Joe, as the men uttered a deep-toned “Yah–h–h!”
“Arter the way in which I cared for you and kept you clean, to go and behave like that!”
“Well, poor dumb beast,” growled Briggs, “she don’t know no better.”
“Do you call that dumb?” cried Joe, merrily enough. “Well, I s’pose she was obliged; but I don’t think much of their gunnery, messmates,” continued the man, as he made use of the glass again. “Oh, they’re all at work, sir, re-loading, and it will soon be our turn. I propose, sir, that we let them give us another shot, and then dash in before they have time to re-load. They won’t hit us; will they, boys?”
“Not they!” came in chorus; but the next moment there was another report, and a smaller ball struck the water so near the boat that the spray was sent flying over them.
“They’ve got the two small guns to bear, sir,” said Joe quietly, “and there’s somebody aboard as knows how to aim.”
He had hardly ceased speaking when there was another puff of smoke from the schooner’s deck, accompanied by a whizzing, shrieking sound through the air just above their heads, while before they had glided with the stream another dozen yards there was a puff of smoke from the three-master’s deck, followed directly after by a puff from the strange schooner, and as the reports of the two heavy guns were echoed from the great walls of verdure upon the river’s bank, the air over their heads seemed full of shrieking missiles.
“Grape and broken iron,” growled Joe Cross. “Take the tiller, Harry Briggs. Step the mast, my lads, and run up the sail. Don’t take no notice of their shot. It don’t do to go mad, even if we do want to fight. Don’t go to sleep over it, boys. We are in the breeze again, and we must run into shelter and think.”
A low growl came from the men as they rapidly obeyed orders, and not a man seemed to flinch as the long gun of the English schooner sent forth its heavy missile again, this time to strike the water some distance ahead and then rise and go crashing amongst the trees, whose leaves could be seen to come pattering down.
Three more shots came skipping over the river before the boat began to glide swiftly, under the pressure of her sail, and yells of derision came ringing from the enemy as they saw the effect of their fire and the effort being made to escape.
“Ah!” half sighed Rodd. “They’ve left off.”
“Ay, sir,” said the coxswain. “They know they can’t hit us now we are flying through the water; and the worst of it is, they think we are afraid and that we English dogs are running away as hard as we can, with our tails between our legs. But they aren’t, sir; they’re a-standing up stiff and at right angles, as our old man calls it, to our backs; eh, messmates?”
“Ay, ay, Joe!” came from the crew, with a roar of laughter.
“And as for my teeth—our teeth, I mean—they are about as sharp as sharp. But we have got the wind with us, gentlemen, and we will just run up-stream and round the bend yonder, so as to get behind the trees just somewhere where we can keep watch with that there little spy-glass, and by and by we will have another try. This go they a’n’t played fair, but next time we’ll make ’em.”
“How, Joe?” cried Rodd.
“Well, sir, my idea is to tackle ’em man to man when they can’t use their guns. I mean when it’s too dark for them to aim; and then we can drop down upon them, or sail up to them fore or aft or either side, and them not know where to have us. It won’t be shooting then, but cold steel, as we know how to use. Well, think of that now!” cried the man, as the boat was now literally skimming over the surface. “Call myself a leader! Why, as true as I am here, I never once thought of firing a shot. Why, we might have given them one volley, messmates. I don’t suppose we should have hit, with them behind the bulwarks, but we might have startled the beggars at the guns. Never mind; we have saved our gunpowder. A man must miss sometimes, and this has been a bad ’un. Next time, though, my lads, we must make it a hit.”
The sailor ceased speaking, for his eyes had suddenly lighted upon Morny’s face, and, as he afterwards said to Rodd, “Blest, sir, it sent a regular chill through me, for in all the hooroar of that job I forgot all about his father and our old man. But never say die, sir. They may have got away in one of the boats and be coasting along out to sea.”
Chapter Forty Seven.
Fireworks.
The boat was well run up out of reach and sight of the enemy, a spot being selected where by a little manoeuvring beneath the shade of an overhanging tree a few boughs could be pressed aside and a watch kept upon the movements of those on board the schooners, in case of their boats coming in pursuit, or, what was quite probable, one or other of the vessels heaving anchor and coming up with the tide.
But the time wore on without any sign being made, and as far as could be made out through the glass, the Spaniards seemed to be quite content with beating off the attack, and from their movements they had apparently come to the conclusion that they had seen the last of the occupants of the boat.
But they did not know the temper of those on board, nor that a quiet little council of war had been going on, till, feeling the necessity for the men being properly prepared ready for any fresh attempt, the doctor suggested that a substantial meal should be made; and this was partaken of with a far better appetite than could have been expected. More than one plan had been suggested regarding the next proceedings. One was that they should steal down the river under cover of the darkness and go in search of their friends; another, that an attempt should be made, when the tide was flowing most swiftly, to cut the cables, in the hope that the vessels might drift ashore; but Joe Cross disposed of this directly as not likely to be of any permanent advantage, and declared that there was only one thing to be done, and that was, to follow up with another bold attempt to board.
“You see, gentlemen,” he said, “we never had a chance to get within touch of the Spanish mongrels. I don’t want to brag, but with a fair start there aren’t one of our chaps here as wouldn’t take a good grip of his cutlass and go for any three of them; eh, messmates?”
“In an or’nary way, Joe,” said Harry Briggs.
“Well, this is an or’nary way, messmate.”
“Nay; I call this a ’stror’nary one.”
“Well, speak out, messmate, and say what you mean.”
“Well, same as you do, Joe, only I put it a little different. Win or lose, I’d go in for tackling three of them in an or’nary way, but I says this is a ’stror’nary one, and you may put me down for six, and if I get the worst of it, well, that’ll be a bit of bad luck. But anyhow I’d try.”
“And so say all of us,” came from the rest.
“Well,” said Joe, laughing, “I never knew afore that I was the most modest chap in our crew.”
“Oh, I have no doubt about your courage, my lads,” said the doctor, “nor that my nephew here, though he is a boy, will fight like a man; but if we are to do any good we must work with method against such great odds. So now, Cross, let us hear what you propose to do.”
“Try again, sir—in the dark—and play a bit artful.”
“But how?” cried Rodd eagerly.
“Well, I’ll tell you, Mr Rodd. I proposes that we just show ourselves once or twice towards evening, and then make a dash right across the river to hide again among the trees. That’ll set ’em all thinking and asking one another what our game’s going to be. Then we will lie up till it’s dark, up with the grapnel, and steal quietly down the river, keeping pretty close to the trees, till we are about opposite the enemy, and then we’ll make a mistake.”
“Make a mistake?” said Rodd. “I don’t understand you.”
“Well, sir, I aren’t done yet. What I mean is, have an accident like; one of us sneeze, or burst out a-coughing, and me break out into a regular passion, calling him as coughed a stoopid lubber and a fool for showing the enemy where we are. It will be best for me to be him as coughs or sneezes, and do it all myself so as not to have any muddle over it. Then I shouts out, ‘Pull for your lives, boys—pull!’ And we makes no end of splashing as we goes on down the river, and all the time as supposing that it’s going to be dark enough so as they can’t fire at us. Then it seems to me, Dr Robson, sir, that the enemy will say to theirselves, ‘They want to get out to sea, and they are gone,’ while as soon as we have got a bit lower down we’ll lie up under the trees and wait till about an hour before daylight, and all as quiet and snug as so many rats. They’ll think they have got rid of us, and all the while we shall be waiting our time to steal up again right by ’em and begin to come down once more from where they don’t expect; and then—board.”
“Hah!” cried Rodd. “Capital!”
“You see, gentlemen, it’ll all have to be done as quiet as quiet, for they’re sure to have a watch set. I know what out-and-outers they are to sleep, but it’s too much to expect that they will have both eyes shut at a time like this. One way or t’other we shall have the tide with us, but even if we don’t I think it might be managed, and anyhow we shall have no big guns at work upon us, and watch or no watch we’ll manage to lay this ’ere boat alongside of our schooner, and if any one says anything again’ our getting aboard, I should like to know why, and if we do get aboard I don’t think it’s in the schooner’s new crew to drive us back again into the boat. There, gentlemen, that’s all I know, and if some one else—the doctor here, or Mr Rodd, or Mr Morny, who is a French naval officer—can give us a better way, I’ll follow anywhere, and I know the lads will come after me like men.”
There was silence for about a minute, and then the doctor coughed, drawing all eyes upon him.
“There is no better way,” he said. “It’s a splendid plan.”
A murmur of assent arose, and Joe Cross looked quite modest.
“But it will be some time yet before we can make our attempt,” said the doctor; “and how are we to pass the weary time till then?”
“Oh,” said Joe cheerily, “we can watch these ’ere great smiling efts till then. They seem to be sailing about and watching us as if they’d got some sort of an idea that they were to have us to eat by and by, which I don’t mean that they shall. And then there’ll be making the false starts. I think, sir, as we’ll make one or two, as if we was half afraid to make a dash for it, and that’ll draw their fire.”
“But suppose they hit us, Joe,” cried Rodd.
“Oh, we must chance that, sir. They can’t hit us. They couldn’t hit a hay-stack in a ten-acre field; let alone a boat being pulled hard across stream. That’ll be all right.”
And so it proved when Joe Cross put his tactics into force, making the men row out into the river, and then ordering them to lie on their oars, while Rodd watched the schooner’s decks and announced that some of the men were busy about the guns and all crowding to the bulwarks to watch the proceedings of the boat.
Then a feint was made in one direction, then in another, and at last Joe stood up in the stern, to begin gesticulating to the men, as if bullying them into making a bold dash to row swiftly down as near the farther shore as they could go.
A minute later two puffs of smoke from different vessels shot out into the clear evening air, the balls ricochetting from the water in each case a few yards away. Then, with the men pulling as hard as ever they could, the boat’s head was swung round, and rowing diagonally across the stream they made for the shelter of the shore from which they had come, the sail was hoisted, filled, and away they went till they were right round the bend and the anchored schooners were out of sight.
“There, Mr Rodd, sir, what did I tell you?” cried Joe triumphantly. “I knew they couldn’t hit us. Chaps like them ought never to be allowed to handle a gun.”
“Well, my man,” said the doctor, “if the rest of your plan will only succeed like this we shall achieve a victory.”
“Nay, nay, sir; only a little boat action. There, my lads, now we’ll have a rest. They’re sure to think we have gone right up the river.”
“But they may send boats to follow us,” suggested Rodd.
“Certainly, sir, they may; but I don’t think they will. They won’t come to close quarters so long as they have got bulwarks to fight from behind and the guns to tackle us when we show. They think that we can’t face the pieces. Well, I don’t say as we are very ready to when there’s another way round, but we haven’t got long to wait before we must make another move, for the sun’s down behind the trees, and I shouldn’t be sorry if it was to come on a fog.”
But no fog came, only darkness the blackest of the black, and the few stars that peered out only looking strangely dim.
The wind had fallen soon after the sail had been lowered and the mast laid well out of their way. One of the balls of spun yarn they had in the locker had been brought into use, cut into lengths, and the oars secured so that they could not slip away when they were left to swing, and at last under cover of the night the next part of Joe’s programme was begun.
It was harder work than had been anticipated, for though the current close in shore was slack, it was very difficult to keep at a respectable distance from the bank as they glided down-stream, while every now and then there was a swirl in the water suggesting that one of the great reptiles had been disturbed.
But still the adventurers progressed, and their leader was keenly on the alert, looking out for the lights of the anchored vessels, ready to raise his false alarm as soon as he got abreast.
But he looked in vain; the Spaniards had taken the precaution to cover their riding lights, and Joe Cross was about to draw his bow at a venture, when a sharp shock which made the boat thrill suggested that they had struck upon a floating tree trunk, washed probably out of the bank during the past flood.
But the next moment they were aware that the boat’s stem had come in contact with one of the crocodiles, which gave a tremendous plunge and began to send the water flying in all directions as it beat heavily upon the surface with its tail.
“Starn all!” roared Joe Cross involuntarily, and then recollecting himself, he roared out, “Pull, lads! Pull for your lives!” For a light suddenly appeared some thirty or forty yards to their left, followed by another lower down the river.
There was the buzz of voices upon the anchored vessels’ decks, and Joe kept on yelling wildly to the men to pull, the noise and excitement being increased by the reports of muskets fired at them in a hurried ungoverned way, the flashes of light giving them faint instantaneous glimpses of the vessels and the faces of the men on board.
“Steady, my lads, steady! Ease off,” said Joe, “gently. We have got to come back again, you know, so we needn’t go too far. Two or three cables’ lengths is plenty. How do you think we’re getting on, sir?”
“Is it possible they may come in pursuit?” whispered the doctor.
“Nay, sir, I don’t think it’s likely. If it was us aboard those schooners we should think that we—meaning us—there, sir—you know what I mean—we should think t’other side was making for the sea. Well, that’s what they think, and now, sir, if they’ll only show their lights for the rest of the night, why, so much the better for we.”
“I don’t see why, Joe,” said Rodd, after a few minutes’ thought.
“Well, I’ll tell you, my lad,” whispered Joe.—“Steady there—steady! I am going to lower down the grapnel, for I dursen’t run in among the trees. They’d crackle too much if we tried to moor to a branch, and we don’t want to capsize. Harry Briggs, look alive, and drop the flukes overboard; make fast, and let us swing.”
This was all done almost without a sound, and just then a faint gleam of light as the boat swung round showed them that certainly one of the anchored vessels was still showing her light, while as it swung round a little farther there were a couple more gleams higher up, as of distant stars.
“That’s all right, gentlemen. Now, Mr Rodd, sir, I haven’t answered your question. Here’s just enough breeze blowing to make me alter my plans, so after a bit we’ll step the mast again and have the sail ready for hoisting, for we shall be able, with the lights to guide us, to sail close up under the farther shore and come down again from just the way they don’t expect, run the boat alongside our schooner, and then one on us will hold on by the boat-hook, while with the rest it’s all aboard, and the schooner’s ours.”
That night seemed to Rodd almost as long, at times longer than the one he had passed in the tree. But here it certainly was shorter, as he afterwards declared, for about a couple of hours before daylight Joe whispered his belief that they had none of them heard the slightest sound from the direction of the lights, that if any one on board the schooner’s deck would be sleeping it would be then, and that they must start at once.
There was no question of all being ready, and at the whispered orders Harry Briggs hauled softly upon the grapnel line, while very slowly and silently the yard ran up the little mast, and the boat began to careen over as the sail filled.
Then with Joe Cross at the tiller she began to glide up-stream, the grapnel was lifted on board without a sound, and silently and steadily they began to cross the river diagonally till they were as near as the steersman dared lay the little craft to the farther shore.
Under his skilful management all went well, and so silently that nothing but the faint pattering lap of the water against the bows could be heard.
To the two lads, though, that sounded unusually loud, as they crouched down involuntarily but quite unnecessarily lower and lower in the boat lest they should be seen, the light hoisted in each schooner seeming bound to show the white sail to the watch of each vessel in turn.
But no alarm was raised; not a sound reached the adventurers, and to Rodd it seemed as if, after terrible periods of agony, three heavy loads had been lifted from his breast. He wanted to whisper a few words to Morny, who all through had been seated by his side, but nothing but the pressure of hand upon arm passed between them, while they could hardly hear the doctor breathe.
At last, though, that period of the terrible suspense was at an end, and the third light they had passed, that of the Maid of Salcombe, was beginning to grow fainter, and being left behind.
“Now, what next?” thought Rodd. “How much longer shall we have to wait before the attack is made?”
The answer came very shortly after, for Joe Cross bore lightly upon the tiller, sent the boat gliding round in a wide circle which ended by bringing the three mooring lights they had left behind all in a line, and then as they began to glide down-stream he whispered—
“It’s now or never, sir.—Cutlashes, my lads; in five minutes we shall be alongside. You, Harry Briggs, shy the grapnel on deck and make fast; we shall soon be all aboard. Then come and help us all you can.”
There was a low deep breath like a thrill passing through the boat, a peculiar sound of movement which Rodd knew was the men drawing their cutlasses, and then as his heart went heavily thump, thump, thump within his breast, he felt that two hands were seeking for his, and as he raised it towards the right it was grasped firmly a moment by Uncle Paul’s, and the next moment, as it was released, by that of Morny.
It was short work, for the boat was gliding steadily down, and directly after the lad felt Joe Cross bending over him.
“She’s just right, sir,” he whispered. “Ketch hold of the tiller, and keep her as she is. I must go for’ard now to lead.”
The boat swayed a little as the man stepped between his mates to the front. Then as soon as the distance was considered right a light rattling sound was heard, and Rodd was conscious of the sail being lowered, though he could see nothing of it, while almost the next minute there was a faint shock as the boat glided against the side of the schooner.
Then Joe Cross’s cry, “All aboard!” rang out, followed by a stentorian cheer, and amidst the rush and hurry the tiller slipped from the boy’s hand and he was climbing over the thwarts to spring into the fore-chains. Then he tottered as if about to fall back into the boat, but a big hand grasped him by the shoulder, steadied him for a moment, and then he was with the little party dashing side by side into what seemed to be a chaos of savage yells and shrieks which rose in wild confusion from the gang of Spaniards who had sprung up from their sleep, where they lay scattered about the deck.
English shouts to come on, Spanish yells, wild mongrel cries, a shriek or two of despair, a heavy plunge followed by another and another, savage blows, and utterances such as fierce men make in the wild culmination of their rage; then plunge after plunge in the water alongside and astern, the splash of swimmers, strange lashings about in the river, followed by shrieks and gurgling cries, and then, heard over all, the combined voices of so many stout Englishmen in a fierce—
“Hurrah!”
“Now then, all of you,” shouted Joe Cross. “There’s a lot of them down below. Close that cabin hatch. Two on you to the fo’c’sle; serve that the same. If you run against anybody in the dark, tell the beggar he’ll be safer overboard than here.”
But there proved to be no one below in the men’s quarters, and after making quite sure the two men returned to their comrades. Then—
“Where’s Mr Rodd?” shouted Joe.
“Here, Joe,” came out of the darkness.
“Mr Morny?”
“I’m here,” came in a breathless voice.
“And the doctor?”
“Helpless, Joe. My ankle’s sprained.”
“Bad luck to it,” cried the man. “Where’s Harry Briggs?”
“All right, mate,” came in a gruff surly voice; “but you needn’t have been in such a hurry to get it done.”
“Hurry?” cried Joe. “Why, it’s only just in time. Later than we thought. It’s getting light. Now then, who else is hurt?”
There was a growl or two, and Joe shouted again—
“Is any one killed? Bah! Won’t say so if he is! What about that boat, Harry?”
“She’s fast enough, messmate.”
“Hah! That’s right. Now then, hold hard a moment. Hear ’em aboard the other boats?”
The question was unnecessary, for shouts and yells for help were evidently rising from men who had swum down-stream to the sides of their consorts, and ceased as they were dragged on board. But a low buzzing murmur kept on, as from a couple of wildly-excited crowds.
Then a sharp shrill voice began giving orders in Spanish, one being followed up with a pistol shot, which was succeeded by a yell and a partial cessation of the buzz of excitement that sounded as if coming from a swarm of human hornets.
“That was the Spanish captain’s voice, I am sure,” cried Rodd.
“Eight, sir,” shouted Joe. “I’d swear to it. Well, he’s getting part of his dose. Oh, if it wasn’t so dark! Big gun’s crew!” he cried. “Is the tackle with her?”
“Ay, ay!” came in answer, after a short bustle of movement, in which trained men took their places.
“Here, run the rammer down her throat, my lads. She may be loaded.”
There was the sound of the stout ash staff passing down the bore of the gun, and the answer came—
“Right!”
“Good,” replied Joe. “Lower down that light. We must use that—if we fire. But we want fresh charges, and there will be no more here.”
There was a quick search made, but without result, and Joe Cross stood silent for a few moments.
“Well,” cried the doctor, “why don’t you send below, to the magazine?”
“Cabin hatch is closed, sir, and some of the slavers are below. This way, my lads—cutlashes. We must have them out.”
“Of course!” cried Rodd excitedly, and Morny uttered a suppressed hiss, as he pressed forward, sword in hand.
“Yes, gentlemen,” said Joe; “it’s their doing, and they must chance the crocs, for we must clear the vessel before it’s broad day.”
At that moment there was a crashing sound as if the cabin hatch was being forced open, and as Joe Cross, followed by the rest, dashed aft, there was a yell, a rush, and some eight or ten of the mongrel enemy forced their way on deck, to be met at once by the schooner’s crew, who charged at them as men-of-war’s men know how to charge.
There was a short encounter, the clash of steel against steel, and the fresh-comers who had taken refuge below began to give way, and in a couple of minutes more the deck was once more cleared, the splashing and plunging of swimming men making for the rapidly dimming light of the next schooner being followed by more blood-curdling yells and groans, mingled with cries for help, while a few minutes later a boat could be faintly seen and efforts were evidently being made to drag the swimmers on board.
“Now then for the gun!” cried Joe.
“What are you going to do?” asked Rodd, who with Morny kept close to the coxswain’s side.
“Fight, sir,” replied Cross fiercely, “before they begin to fight us. See to the other guns, my lads. The way’s open to the magazine now. It’ll be light directly, and that Spanish skipper won’t leave us long before he begins.—There, what did I say?”
For all at once the meaning of the Spaniards’ orders, enforced by a pistol shot, was explained by a bright flash, the roar of a heavy gun, and the whistle of a shot just over the speaker’s head.
A dead silence now fell for a few moments upon the deck of the Maid of Salcombe. There was a little bustle of preparation, and then a period of waiting, during which Joe Cross carefully sighted the loaded gun, depressing her muzzle all he could, the two lads the while listening excitedly to the stir and orders which came from the Spanish three-master’s deck.
“Oh, fire, Joe—fire!” whispered Rodd. “We shall have another shot from her directly.”
“Yes, my lad, I know; but I want to make sure of a little more light.—Fire!” he said, directly afterwards.
A spark was seen to sink at once upon the touch-hole of the long gun, there was a deep roar as she seemed to leap from the deck, a heavy instantaneous crash, and then a return shot which went wide of their schooner.
“You’ve hit, Joe,” cried Rodd excitedly, as he stood amidst the smoke, which began to spread about where they gathered.
“Yes, sir, I hit,” said the man, with a half-laugh, as the crew of the gun busied themselves sponging out and preparing to re-load. “They pretty well filled her to the muzzle, but they got what they meant for us. But hallo! what’s the meaning of this ’ere? What’s the matter with us now?”
Only this, that the Maid of Salcombe was adrift and threatening, if something were not done to bring her up, to drift ashore not far from where the faint morning light revealed the brig lying right over on her side as helpless as any hulk.
Joe Cross, closely followed by the lads, ran forward to the bows, Rodd one side, Joe and Morny the other.
“Why, the cable must have broke adrift,” cried the coxswain, leaning over, to see that the great rope was hanging down straight from the starboard hawse-hole.
“Cut, Joe, cut,” shouted Rodd. “Quick! Look out!” For as he had leaned over the bulwarks just above the larboard hawse-hole, a great swarthy mulatto, knife in hand, was climbing up, and as soon as he caught sight of the lad he made for him at once.
Rodd stood upon his guard and managed to strike aside the thrust made at him by the mulatto; but the latter was lithe and active as a monkey. He struck at the boy again, and as Rodd gave way the fellow threw himself on to the rail and sprang over, but only to be cut down by Joe Cross, who had answered the boy’s call.
It was the saving of Rodd’s life, but the mulatto was dangerous still, and recovering himself he made a dash at Morny, who stepped aside, while, with all the ferociousness of a Malay running amok, the man sprang aft, avoided two or three cuts made at him by the sailors, and then plunged over the side, to begin swimming towards the three-master, which was in the act of sending another shot at the doctor’s vessel.
This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in all directions, and making the coxswain shout to his men to stand firm, as, seeing their perilous position, he hurried to their help, for the big schooner had slipped her cable, a sail had been run up, and she was beginning to answer her helm, while the Maid of Salcombe was drifting helplessly towards the shore.
It was a choice between hoisting sail and letting go another anchor while the chance was there, as the two vessels forged slowly ahead preparing to send in another shot.
This latter in his excitement Joe Cross essayed to do, striking their enemy just at the water-line as she passed them, while now the slaver’s sister craft began firing as she too, hoisting sail, was coming up-stream.
“Ah!” panted the sailor, as he turned to Uncle Paul. “Here’s your peaceful schooner, sir, as trades in palm-oil! Why, they are pirates and slavers, sir, and I’ve done it now. Too late, my lads—too late!” he cried to the men, who had let go the other anchor. “Nothing can save us now. We are going ashore.”
“Oh, don’t give up, man,” cried the doctor angrily.
“I won’t, sir. None of us will; but— There, I said as much. We just touched bottom then. There she goes again! And in another minute we shall be fast in the mud, and they’ll have nothing to do but powder away at us till we are a wreck. Slew that there gun round, boys, and let’s give her another shot or two while there’s a chance.”
“No, no,” cried Rodd. “Not at that! Fire at the other. Can’t you see, Joe? Uncle! Morny! The three-master’s going down!”
It was quite true, for the first shot from the Maid of Salcombe, that sent from the long gun, crammed as Joe had said almost to the muzzle, had torn into the slaver just below water-line. The second had been just as effective in its aim, the water had been pouring in ever since, and now, as she was evidently settling down by the head, her guns were forsaken, all discipline was at an end, and her crew had made a rush for the boats, which were soon after overcrowded and being pushed off by their occupants to make for the third schooner. This last, fairly well managed, came slowly on, firing from time to time at the English craft, which, had now swung round upon her heel and lay bowsprit to the shore in a falling tide.
As far as was possible her guns were slewed round, and a steady reply to the enemy’s fire was kept up; but her doom seemed to be sealed, the Spaniard being able to choose her own position, while minute by minute the English vessel was getting more helpless.
“Well, gentlemen, what’s it to be?” said Joe, as he stood coolly wiping the blackened perspiration from his forehead.
“Keep on firing to the last,” said the doctor sternly. “Better die like men than surrender and be murdered, for after what has passed there can be no mercy here.”
“That’s right, sir,” said the man, “but there’s the young gentlemen, and we don’t any of us want to die if we can help it.”
“Why, you are not beaten, are you, Joe?” cried Rodd fiercely.
“Not a bit of it, sir, but here’s our schooner, and there’s Mr Morny’s brig. It’s no use to make an ugly face over a nasty dose. We are beaten, and nothing that we could do could keep that slaver from seeing that she’s won.”
“Go on firing, and sink her,” cried Rodd. “Look at the other one,” and he pointed to the three-master, whose decks looked as if they were awash.
“Well, sir, that’s what we have been trying to do; but she won’t sink. How so be, here goes, my lad, for another try, and— What’s the meaning of that?”
For all at once through the smoke that rose from the schooner they could see that something fresh had taken place—what, they could not make out, but it was something important, and one of the enemy’s smaller guns was fired in the other direction.
“Why, there must be help coming from down the river,” cried the doctor excitedly. “Yes, hark at that!”
For in reply to the schooner’s gun a desultory series of musket shots began to ring out, and encouraged by this and the knowledge that help must be at hand, the little English crew sent forth a cheer, dragged the long gun more and more round, and sent one of the most successful shots they had fired crash into the enemy’s stern.
To the astonishment of all, the firing on board the enemy ceased; another sail was run up, and as it filled the schooner swung round upon another tack and began to sail steadily down the river, clearing the way for those on board the English vessel to see a couple of well-manned boats being rowed steadily up-stream, with men in the stern-sheets keeping up a musketry fire.
“Quick!” shouted Moray. “Another shot! Friends! Friends!”
“Yes, sir,” said Joe quietly, “but I don’t see how it’s to be done. Yes, we might do it from a little gun;” and he ran with a part of the crew to try and slew her round.
“No good, gentlemen,” he said. “By the time we can get a shot off we shall risk hitting those boats, whatever they are, and they are coming to our help. Here, hasn’t anybody got a glass?”
“No,” cried Rodd; “it was left in the boat.”
“Well, there’s one in the cabin. Here, one of you run down.”
“No, no,” cried Morny excitedly; “they’re our boats. Look! That’s my father in one,” he cried hysterically.
“And if that aren’t our old man in the other my name aren’t Joe Cross!”