“So like it that it must be one,” said Hemming. “Hurra! the slaver must be ours after all.”
Just at that moment the sound of firearms coming from a distance was heard, borne faintly on the wind through an opening in the mangrove bushes. Shot after shot followed.
“The other boat must have fallen in with some of the rascals; the two channels cannot be far apart,” exclaimed Mr Hemming. “Give way, my lads, give way.”
He could not help in his eagerness saying this, although the men were already pulling as hard as they could. He was eagerly looking about all the time for some passage through which they might get to the assistance of their comrades. The boat dashed on up the river, and very soon they came in sight of a schooner moored close to the bank of a small creek. They were quickly up to her and mounting her sides. No one opposed them, and not a human being was to be seen. There were, however, evident signs that people had only just left her. A stage of planks led from her deck to the shore. Her sails were bent, her anchor stowed, she was in perfect readiness for sea. A hurried glance below showed that she was undoubtedly a slaver, and about probably that very day to receive her human cargo on board. In her hold were leaguers or huge water casks filled with water; a large supply of wood and provisions, especially of farinha, on which slaves are chiefly fed. Then there was the slave deck, scarcely thirty-six inches in height, and large coppers for boiling the slaves’ food, and some hundred pairs of slave irons or manacles for confining their legs or arms; indeed, nothing was wanting to condemn her. Although Hemming guessed that the crew would soon be back, he was so eager to go to the assistance of Mr Evans, that leaving Murray and a couple of men on board the schooner, he leaped again into his boat and pulled up the creek, thinking that he might get through it into the other channel. It narrowed, however, very rapidly. The trees grew closer and closer together till the branches touched, and finally arched so much overhead as to shut out the view of the sky. It was almost evident that there could not be a navigable passage into the other stream, and Hemming felt that he was not doing a prudent thing in thus pushing on into what might prove not only a hornets’ nest, but a hornets’ trap, where he and those whose lives were entrusted to him might be stung to death without the power of defending themselves. Still he did not like to abandon his purpose. To push overland would be still more dangerous. The question about proceeding was settled for him. The boat, although in mid-channel, ran her stem into the mud. With a falling tide it would have been madness to proceed farther.
“Back all!” cried the lieutenant.
There was barely room for the oars between the two banks. It seemed doubtful, at first, whether the boat could be shoved off. Delay in this case, as it is in many others, was dangerous. Paddy Adair and several of the men on this instantly leaped out, but sank very near up to their middles in slime and water. With their weight, however, out of her, the boat floated, and the rest standing up and shoving at the same time, they got her a little way down the stream. Paddy who was always ready to do anything, however unpleasant, for the sake of setting an example, continued in the water shoving the boat along; the black banks on either side showing the importance of getting out of the trap into which they had gone, as quickly as possible.
“Jump in, Adair—jump in—she’ll freely swim now,” said Hemming.
“We’ll just get her past this log of wood and give her a shove off from it,” said Paddy, making a spring on a dark-brown object close to them. He jumped off again, however, very much faster, and sprang towards the boat, for the seeming log opened a huge pair of jaws, exhibiting a terrific row of teeth, with which it made a furious snap at the midshipman’s legs. Happily Mr Hemming, leaning over, caught him by the arm and dragged him in, while one of the men gave the monster a rap with the end of his oar, which somewhat distracted his attention, and allowed the rest of the men to scramble on board, which they did in a very great hurry, and no little consternation exhibited in their looks. The alligator first vented his rage by gnawing the blade of the oar, and then made a terrific rush at the boat.
“Shove away, my lads—shove away,” cried Hemming, not wishing to waste time in a contest with the beast.
The men, standing up, urged on the boat with their oars as fast as they could; but the savage brute still followed, biting at the blades and trying to get in between them. Terence, however, who very speedily recovered from his alarm, seized a musket, and, watching for the moment when the alligator next opened his huge mouth, fired right down it.
“A hard pill that to digest, if it does not kill him,” cried Paddy, when he had done the deed.
At first the brute seemed scarcely aware that anything unusual had gone down his throat; but, as he was making another dart at the boat, he suddenly began to move about in an eccentric way—as Paddy said, “as if something troubled him in his inside,” and then, turning away, buried his huge body in the mud, while his tail lashed the water into foam. Round the spot above where his head was probably hidden, a red circle was formed, which, whirling round in the eddies of the current, came sweeping past the boat, proving that Adair’s shot had not failed to take effect. Well content to get thus easily rid of their unpleasant antagonist, the men shoved the boat on rapidly down the creek. They had not quite come in sight of the slave schooner when a shout reached their ears. It was repeated. It sounded like a cry for help.
“It is Murray’s voice, sir,” exclaimed Adair; “he is shouting to us; he is attacked, depend on it.”
So Mr Hemming thought. The boat was got round, the men sprung into their seats, and, getting out their oars, dashed away down the stream. The sound of several pistol-shots reached their ears and increased their eagerness to get on. They soon came in sight of the schooner. Murray and his two companions were on her deck, and keeping at bay a dozen Spaniards and blacks, who were attempting to force their way across the platform. Several other people were coming up, and in another instant Murray and the two seamen would have been over-powered. Even when united the Englishmen were far outnumbered by the Spaniards and blacks. Murray heard the shout of his friends as they drew near, and it encouraged him to persevere in his hitherto almost hopeless defence of the prize. In another instant the boat dashed alongside. The crew quickly scrambled on board, and whirling their cutlasses round their heads, with loud shouts they charged the enemy and drove them off the platform.
They next set to work to cut it away. They were not long about it. Not a moment was to be lost. More people were coming up, blacks and whites, armed with muskets. The warps which moored the vessel to the shore were speedily cut. Three hands jumped into the boat, and the end of a hawser being hove-to them, they towed round the schooner’s head—the current caught it and helped them. Meantime the topsails were loosed and the jib run up; a puff of wind also came down the creek. Away glided the schooner—the boat dropped alongside. The slave-dealers, now mustering strong, began firing at them. They fired in return, so as to drive the villains to seek shelter behind the trees. It might well have enraged the Spaniards to see their vessel carried away from before their very eyes. They did their best to revenge themselves by trying to pick off the Englishmen; but though two of the latter were slightly wounded, no one was disabled, and the schooner held her course unimpeded down the stream. Our friends found, however, before long, in one of the reaches, the wind heading them; and, looking astern, they saw that several large canoes and other boats had put out from the shore, and were in pursuit of them; the slavers probably calculated on their getting on shore to enable them to come up with them. The current, however, was strong, the wind was tolerably steady, the schooner went about like a top, and a few tacks carried them through each of the reaches, when the wind headed them. Thus they made good way; but still there were many dangers to be encountered. They might, for the present, easily keep ahead of their pursuers; but, unless they could get a free wind to cross the bar, they must bring up, as it would otherwise be madness to make the attempt. They had gone a long way up the river, and it was difficult to say how the wind might be at the mouth. At last in a long reach they ran the pirates out of sight. They, however, suspected that the latter were stopping to collect more of their forces before coming on to the attack. At length the schooner reached the main channel of the river. Hemming, and Murray, and Adair looked anxiously up the other stream in the hopes of seeing Mr Evans’s boat.
“Perhaps she has come down, and will be waiting for us at the bar,” observed Hemming. “If she has got hold of the schooner we were looking for, we shall very likely find her ahead of us; at all events we must keep on till we find her.”
The little vessel was accordingly kept on down the river. Great was their disappointment, on coming in sight of the bar, to find a heavy surf breaking over it, while the breeze which came in set very nearly up the stream. It was absolutely necessary to bring up. The anchor was dropped, and, as the vessel swung to the tide, the dark waters came whirling and eddying by with a force which made Hemming thankful that he had not attempted to cross the bar. As soon as he had brought up, he made every preparation for defending the vessel from the attack to be expected. Having got all their arms ready, he had ropes passed round and round the vessel above the bulwarks, so as to serve in the place of boarding-nettings, and then, not without great difficulty, they hoisted their own boat on board, and stowed her amidships. These important preparations being made, they lighted the fire in the caboose and cooked a dinner, for which an abundance of provisions was found on board. A couple of hours passed away. They were anxious ones to Hemming—so they were to Murray, and perhaps to Adair, though the men did not probably trouble themselves much about the matter. A constant look-out, however, was kept—up the river, lest the pirates should come on them unawares, and down the river, in the hopes of seeing the surf diminishing on the bar and the wind set more out of it. What could have become of Mr Evans, Rogers, and their party was also the constant subject of conversation.
“Hurra!” at last cried Murray, who had been looking out astern; “the bar is getting quite smooth. See, there is scarcely any current passing us, and the wind is setting almost out of the river.”
“And here come the canoes in battle array,” cried Adair from forward. “They will be down upon us before many minutes are over.”
“Heave up the anchor, my lads,” shouted Hemming; “let fall the topsails. Run up the jib and fore-staysail. Set the foresail and mainsail.” These orders followed in rapid succession. The men did not require to be told to be smart about the work. Round came the schooner’s head. Her sails filled and, under complete command, she stood towards the bar. A clear piece of water showed the only passage she could take with safety. The slave-traders’ fleet of canoes came on, but they were just in time to be too late. The schooner stood on, and, well piloted, dashed through the dangerous passage; the surf boiling up still on either side, but not breaking on board her. In another minute she was over it, and floating free on the open sea.
The brig was at a considerable distance, in chase of a vessel in the offing; but there was no sign of the other boat, or of the schooner, which it was hoped she might have captured. Not knowing the sad fate of Mr Evans and his party, Murray and Adair were eagerly on the look-out for them. Occasionally they turned a glance astern to see what had become of their pursuers; but the pirates seem to have considered it useless or too hazardous to attempt to cross the bar, and had given up the chase.
“I say, Alick, what do you make out that dark object to be there?” exclaimed Adair, pointing to the southward. One after the other examined it through the glass.
“It’s a whale or a ship’s bottom,” answered Murray, after a long scrutiny. They reported what they had seen to Hemming.
“No whale is likely to have floated into these latitudes,” he remarked; “some vessel must have been capsized. Keep her away towards it.” The schooner, with a fair breeze, rapidly approached the object they had seen. It was soon ascertained that Hemming was right in his conjectures. They got close up to the wreck. There was no one on her! “By the set of the current here, I judge that she may have come over the very bar we have just crossed—not very long ago either,” observed Hemming thoughtfully. Twice he sailed round the wreck, examining her narrowly. “I am afraid something has happened,” he observed at last; “I am not happy on the subject. It cannot be helped though. It may be the lot of any of us. Keep her up once more for the brig.”
Alick and Terence became very sad when they heard these remarks. They scarcely liked to ask Hemming what he meant. As they talked over the matter, they felt very much alarmed on Jack’s account. Still they could not believe that he, their old friend and companion, could possibly be lost.
“No, no, he’ll turn up somewhere, I’m sure,” cried Paddy.
“I trust he will,” answered Alick gravely; but he felt very sad and depressed in spirits.
Hemming seemed doubtful what to do; whether he would recross the bar, make a dash at the pirates, and run up the river and look for his friends, or stand on at once and get greater force from the brig. The latter was the wisest course, and he determined to follow it. The Archer had stood away in chase of another vessel of a suspicious appearance, and when night fell she was nowhere to be seen. Hemming, therefore, hove the schooner to, to wait till her return. Had he gone after her, they might very probably, in the darkness of night, have missed each other.
Never, perhaps, had my two old schoolfellows passed a more anxious night, even when they were wrecked on the coast of Greece; then the three friends were together; now their minds were racked with doubts of the most painful description as to what had become of Jack and his companions. Had they known of the destruction of the boat and her crew, they would, if possible, have been still more anxious.
Hemming also kept pacing the deck all night long, looking out on every side, like a good officer, as he was, who felt that the lives of the people with him were entrusted to his care. He did not dread any attack from boats, but he knew that armed slavers might be attempting to run in or out of the river while the brig was away, and that if they attempted to molest him, he should find them very difficult customers to dispose of. Still he was not the man to allow a slaver to pass him without attempting to capture her, inferior as he might be to her in force. The night was very dark, now and then a few flashes of phosphorescent light played over the ocean, or were stirred up by the bows of the schooner, as she slowly worked her way through the water; but even the sharpest eyes on board could scarcely distinguish anything two or three hundred yards off. Terence and Alick could not bring themselves to lie down nor take any rest, even though Hemming urged them to do so. They were leaning together over the bulwarks. They neither of them could have said whether they were asleep or awake. The wind had dropped considerably, and at intervals the sails shook themselves and gave a loud flap against the masts. Terence felt a hand suddenly resting on his shoulder.
