“What think you, my lads, would have been our lot had we remained with those mad men?” he asked. “I’ll tell you; by this time not one of us would have been alive.” As the sun rose, the breeze came strongly off the land and drove them once more away from it. “Never fear, my lads; we shall have the sea breeze soon to send us back again,” he cried out cheerfully to keep up their spirits. It did not come as soon as he expected. At last a rock appeared rising out of the water. It rose higher and higher. The raft drifted slowly by at a distance; still the atmosphere was so clear that they could discern figures on the top. They all looked earnestly. There could be no doubt of it; the people were struggling like madmen. Now and then one of them, it appeared, was cast off the cliff into the water, but the distance was so great that it appeared rather like some dreadful dream than a reality. While they were gazing at this spectacle the wind fell; then in a short time the breeze came from the west, and hoisting their sail they once more rapidly approached the shore. For the remainder of the day they made good progress; still they knew that they could not hope to reach it that night, and once more the sun went down and left them in darkness. The night passed as the former had done. No one now expressed a wish that he had remained on the rock. Jack and Terence had kept up their spirits wonderfully. At length, leaning on each other’s shoulders, they fell asleep. They were startled with the cry of “A sail ahead!” In an instant everyone roused up. As they looked out they saw a large brig on the port tack, standing to the southward across their course. In a few minutes more she would have shot ahead out of hearing. “Now, my lads, shout, shout, till you crack your voices,” cried out Hemming; “she is a man-of-war brig; one of the cruisers on the station. I know her by the cut of her canvas.” Weak as all on board the raft at this time were, they raised a shout such as Englishmen only know how to give. They listened eagerly. Directly afterwards a cheer came in answer towards them. The rattling of blocks was heard, and the brig’s helm being put down, and her main-topsail backed, she came up into the wind. In another instant they were alongside. Cramped and half starved as they all had been, they had great difficulty in getting on board. Hemming was the only man who went up by himself, and his knees trembled so much when he gained the deck that he had to lean against the bulwarks for support. The officer of the watch came forward to receive them. Hemming gave his name as a lieutenant of the Ranger.
“Delighted to see you,” exclaimed the lieutenant of the brig; “we heard at Sierra Leone that you were lost, for several vessels have been sent to look for you, and not one could gain tidings of you. But come below, you want sleep, and food, and dry clothes.”
The captain of the brig, hearing what had occurred, turned out, and had berths made up for the two midshipmen in his own cabin, while one of the lieutenants gave up his berth to Hemming in the gun-room. The doctor was soon in attendance on all the party, and sleep, which they all so much required, soon sealed their eyelids. Jack and Terence slept for a long time. When they awoke, the sun was shining right down the cabin skylight. At the cabin table was sitting a midshipman reading. They could not see his face, but there was something in his figure and attitude which made them both sit up and exclaim, “Hallo! who are you?” The midshipman sprung from his seat, and in another instant Alick Murray was shaking them warmly by the hand. “This is jolly, this is delightful,” exclaimed Jack; “tell us all about it, though.” Alick accordingly told them that the brig was the Archer, of sixteen guns, that she was commanded by a relation of his, Captain Grant, who had got him appointed to her, and that she had only just come out direct from England. Murray then got his friends to give him an outline of their adventures, which they had to repeat to Captain Grant himself, who shortly after came into the cabin. Meantime the steward had brought them some breakfast; for midshipmen are not heroes of romance, and require feeding before they are fit for much. After breakfast they felt wonderfully recovered, and were able to get up and go on deck. Hemming had before this explained to Captain Grant his promise to bring relief to the Spaniards, and the brig was accordingly beating up towards the rock. As they drew near they looked out for signals, but none were made. They got still nearer. “Where can the people have got to?” exclaimed the captain, looking through his glass. As the brig approached the rock the lead was kept going, but the water was found to be quite deep. She sailed round and round it, but not a human being was seen there alive. Whether some dreadful catastrophe had occurred after the English left the spot, or whether some vessel had visited it and carried off the survivors, was never ascertained. Jack and Terence did their best to banish the dreadful scenes which had occurred from their thoughts, and it was with infinite satisfaction that the three midshipmen found themselves once more together. “This is the station for adventure,” exclaimed Jack; “depend on it before long we shall have lots to do.”
* * *
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Chapter Eleven.
The Archer was a fine brig, and Captain Grant was a first-rate officer. When naval officers or seamen go on board ships of war they have to take their share of the duty with the rest of the crew; so Rogers and Adair found that they should have plenty of employment, even though they might not for some time be able to join their own ship. Captain Grant considered that idleness is the mother of all vice, so he took care that no one in his ship should be idle, and certainly he had the knack of making good seamen of all who sailed with him.
The Archer had been standing off the coast of Africa under easy sail, when, just as the cold grey light of day stole over the waters, a vessel was seen inside of her, evidently making for a harbour in the neighbourhood. As the light increased, she was discovered to be a schooner.
“All hands make sail,” cried the officer of the watch, who had just made his report to the commander.
“All hands make sail,” echoed the boatswain, giving with his shrill pipe the well-known signal. “Tumble up there, tumble up there,” roared out the boatswain’s mates, with their gruff voices, to the sluggards who seemed inclined to stick in their hammocks.
In a few moments the watch below were rushing up on deck and flying to their stations, and then, as if by magic, the masts and yards of the brig were covered with the broad sheets of canvas which had been furled during the night. Topgallant-sails, royals, and studding-sails being set in rapid succession, away glided the brig with her head towards the land, through the calm leaden-coloured water. Jack and Terence had with the rest sprung on deck, not taking many moments to slip into their clothes. Few landsmen can understand how quickly that operation can, by constant practice, be performed. They had there joined Alick, who had the morning watch. Together they all went aloft to take a look at the chase.
“She’s a slaver, from her evident wish to avoid us, and from the way she is standing,” observed Alick, after having taken a long look at her through his glass. “We may prevent her from embarking her slaves, and save the poor wretches the horrors to which they are always exposed, when once they get on board these iniquitous prison ships.”
The stranger soon discovered that the brig-of-war was in chase of her, and having crowded all sail, kept away directly for the land. From the wide spread of her white canvas, and from the way she had behaved, there was no doubt she was a slaver. Everybody felt certain that they should capture the stranger; the Archer was undoubtedly overhauling her, and she could not escape either to the north or south without their perceiving her, and cutting her off. An hour’s chase brought them in sight of the land. It was a low, uninviting shore, lined with a dense belt of mangrove bushes, a few tall palms appearing here and there above them; then the ground rose slightly, with some ranges of blue hills in the distance. As the sun rose, a mist was drawn up which floated just above the water, and shut out the lower branches of the mangrove trees, though their tops, forming a wavy dark line, could just be seen above it. None of the officers of the Archer had been on the coast before, and as she had no pilot, it was necessary to approach it with caution. The lead was therefore kept going. The schooner stood boldly on.
“The fellows will, I am afraid, run her on shore, if they can find no other means of escaping,” observed the captain, after scrutinising the chase, and the coast she was approaching, through his glass.
“We shall have her, she can’t escape us, that’s one comfort,” cried Jack Rogers.
On flew the schooner. The wind freshened somewhat. Suddenly she entered the belt of mist. Everybody on board the brig rubbed their eyes. Where was she? Not a vestige of her was to be seen. As they approached the land, the roar of the surf on the shore reached their ears. There could be little doubt that the schooner had been run on shore, and would probably soon be knocked to pieces, while her crew had made their escape to the land. Captain Grant was anxious to stand in as close as he could.
“By the deep nine,” sung out one of the men in the chains.
“By the mark seven,” soon repeated another.
To approach nearer would not have been prudent. The canvas was therefore flattened in, and the brig’s head was once more turned to seaward. Scarcely had she hauled her wind, than the sun having risen high above the land, the mist lifted, and the whole line of coast fringed with mangrove bushes—and here and there with a white belt of sand—appeared in sight. But the chase, where was she? Not a sign of her appeared on the shore, while neither to the north nor to the south was she to be seen. Jack looked at Adair, and Adair looked at Jack, and together they discussed the matter with Alick, but neither of the three could offer any satisfactory explanation of the matter. Captain Grant and the rest of the officers appeared equally puzzled. As the brig stood closer inshore there was a chance of the mystery being solved. The hands in the chains were kept heaving the lead, which showed that the brig was slowly shoaling her water. At length she was hove-to, and two boats were lowered. Their own lieutenant, Hemming, who had escaped with them from a sinking slaver, volunteered to take charge of one of them, and Evans, the second lieutenant of the brig, went in the other. The former, as the senior officer, had charge of the expedition.
“As she cannot have escaped along-shore, and certainly has not evaporated into the air, the chase must have got into some creek or inlet, the mouth of which we cannot distinguish,” observed the captain. “You will therefore search for such an entrance, and pursue, and bring her out if you can.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” answered Hemming, delighted with the work in prospect.
The three midshipmen got leave to go in the boat. Jack accompanied Evans, the other two went with Hemming, as did Jack’s old follower, Dick Needham. Away they pulled in high spirits. As they approached the shore they observed that a long line of white surf was breaking heavily on it. Hemming stood up and scanned the coast narrowly, thinking that after all the schooner might have been run on shore, and, as slavers are but slightly put together, might have speedily been knocked to pieces. As he stood up, and the boat rose to the top of the swell, he saw not what he expected, but a piece of clear water inside a narrow spit of sand, and a little to the south he observed a spot where the surf broke less heavily, and which he concluded was the entrance to the creek or river.
“I have little doubt that this must be the place where the schooner has taken refuge; and as she has gone up, so may we,” shouted Hemming, pointing it out to his brother officer.
Evans agreed with him, and the two boats pulled away in the direction indicated. That there was an entrance was evident, but it required great caution in approaching it. A capsize would probably prove fatal to all hands—for had any escaped drowning, they would have fallen a prey to the sharks, which in southern latitudes generally maintain a strict blockade at the mouths of rivers, to pick up any offal which the stream may bring down. The boats rose and fell on the smooth swells as they came rolling in. At last Hemming observed a space on the bar clear of broken water. He gave the signal to go ahead.
“Now, my lads, now pull away,” he shouted.
The boats dashed on, the surf roared and foamed on either side of them, and not only did the three midshipmen, but most of the older men in the boats, hold their breath till they were well through it, and once more floating in smooth water inside the bar. Instead of being in a mere creek, they found that they had entered a broad, deep river which seemed to come down from a considerable distance in the interior. They pulled on, more certain than before of finding the chase. However, after they had gone some distance, they arrived at a spot where the river formed two distinct branches, or, rather, it might be, where another broad stream joined the main current. Up which of these the schooner had proceeded it was impossible to say.
“I’ll take one stream, you take the other,” shouted Hemming to Evans, and the boats dashed on.
It was important to overtake the schooner before she got higher up, and perhaps hidden away in some narrow creek where it might be no easy matter to find her. The scenery was far from attractive. Little else on either side was to be seen but long lines of mangrove bushes, and as the tide fell, black blanks of mud began to appear, which it was evident would soon narrow the width of the stream. Evans and Jack took the branch of the stream which came from the southward. It wound about a good deal, so that they were aware they might any moment come on the schooner. They kept their muskets by their sides ready loaded.
“I say, Mr Evans, I wish that we could see the chase some time before we get up to her,” observed Jack. “What are we to do should we find her, sir?”
“Jump on board, and knock every fellow down who resists,” was the lieutenant’s answer. “Depend on it she is a slaver or pirate, probably both, and her crew will not give in without a tussle.”
“With the greatest pleasure in the world,” replied Jack, who was very practical in his notions about fighting, and had no idea of half-measures.
The current was now making down very strong, and the boat consequently progressed but slowly. Still Mr Evans persevered. The men bent lustily to their oars, and reach after reach of the river was passed, but there was no sign of the chase. Now and then there were openings in the mangrove bushes, and more than once Jack felt certain that he saw some dark figures running along parallel with the river, and evidently watching their movements. Jack pointed them out to Mr Evans.
