Chapter XIX: Left Behind

No reply was necessary, for in another instant both the mate and the sailor comprehended the cause of Ralph's surprise and alarm.

The Wanderer was nowhere to be seen.

The entire surface of the small, landlocked bay was as deserted and seemingly untouched by man's presence, as if human eyes had never beheld its solitude. A glimpse of the inlet and the breakers far out on the bar beyond was visible between two islets.

They could hear the monotonous thunder of the surf and discern a glassy ocean farther out, for the morning was calm, promising also to be intensely hot.

The surprise of each was so supreme that for an instant nothing was said. Finally the mate, with an expression of deep perplexity on his countenance, said:

"I cannot understand it at all. Let us row to the landing. Perhaps we may gain some clue to the mystery."

So they pulled across to the part of the harbor where the schooner had been anchored when Duff, heading the boat for the shore, plunged them into the leafy recesses that overhung the water. Having once penetrated this outer curtain, Ralph saw they were close to a rude landing made of logs sunk endways into the oozy bottom, and floored with large canes similar to bamboo.

A sort of corduroy road led into the swamp, and disappeared amid the trees. Upon a post near by was an old marlin spike with something white fluttering beneath. This attracted the mate's eye.

"Here we are," said he, detaching the bit of paper. "Perhaps this will give us a little light."

And he read as follows:

"3 bells sekund dog watch. gOt to git out. Uncle Sam on the Lookoute. cap ses yu must shift fer yure selves."

"That looks as if a fo'c'stle fist had written it," remarked Duff ruminatively. "I have felt for some time that Gary wouldn't object to being rid of a few of us."

"'E's a bloomin' fool," quoth Ben, evidently feeling that this exigency had removed all restraint of speech as regarded the captain. "Wot will 'e do short handed with a hundred or more black devils aboard in case trouble comes? Barrin' I were out o' here though, I wouldn't care if I never touched a halyard of the Wanderer again."

"You see," said Duff, "we three were known to disapprove of the whole business. He needed me to get over here, for I know the coast. But he can get along without me going back."

"What does that mean about Uncle Sam," asked Ralph.

"That is to make us think some Yankee cruiser is in the neighborhood, and that they left for safety's sake. I half believe that is a blind. But come. We must be stirring, and see if they are really gone, and also if we can cross the bar in a calm, loaded as we are. I know we can't, should a breeze spring up."

Presently they were aboard again, pulling for the inlet. As they passed between a number of mangrove islets Ralph, looking down, could see an occasional shark or sawfish leisurely prodding about ten or fifteen feet below the surface.

But as they neared the bar the water grew clouded, though a dark dorsal appendage thrusting itself here and there above the wave indicated the terrible result that would probably follow should the boat capsize.

When they rounded the last intervening point and the open ocean was disclosed, the first object that met their eyes was the Wanderer with all sails set, about two miles in the offing. She lay motionless, for the calm was complete.

"Well," remarked Duff, "we're all right if we pass the bar. There would be no trouble about that with a lighter load. We can try it as we are, for our supplies will be needed; but if necessary--over they go."

They were already nearing the first line of breakers, when the mate detected a second sail to the left and much nearer the shore.

This stranger was a full rigged ship hardly a mile away and to the southward, while the Wanderer was almost due west from the inlet.

"She's a sailing corvette, or I'm much mistaken," said the mate, "but--mind yourselves, men! Pull with a will."

The first line of breakers was passed without trouble. The second was rougher, and the men strained at the oars to give the yawl as much headway as possible.

The last wave came "quartering" and threw a hatful of water into Ralph's face, whereat Mr. Duff laughed cheerily.

"One ducking!" he cried. "But now comes the tug of war. Jump her, boys! Jump her, I say!"

The third and last line was longer, larger, and in every way more formidable, owing to the sudden deepening of the water. Both Ben and Ralph were rather exhausted from their previous exertions, and Duff yelled himself hoarse in his repeated entreaties to:

"Give way! G-g-give wa-a-a-y I tell you! Don't you see--we're gone? Keep her nose up! K-e-e-p it u-u-u-p-p! Sharks and sawfish, men! are you going to let her broach? Now then! All together, a-n-d--over she--good heavens!"

A barrel or two of brine hurled over the starboard quarter choked off the mate's adjurations. But it was the last of the angry combers and the next minute the three were wiping the salt water from their faces while the yawl was riding easily on the glassy swell just beyond the bar.

"Now head her for the schooner, boys," said Duff, bailing with one hand as he steered with the other. "If we hadn't had the ebb with us, we'd have had to lighten her. Now--give me your oar, Ralph. You steer. We've no time to lose, for if a breeze starts before we reach the side, I fear they're not so fond of our company but what they might give us the slip yet."

"Couldn't we ship on that other vessel?" asked Ralph, by no means reluctant to change his berth to a ship less liable to the law's penalties.

"We probably could," replied Duff dryly. "We probably might also have to spend several months in jail somewhere as slavers, or for aiding and abetting in the traffic. I think we'd better overhaul the schooner and wait for better times."

The sun was now high in the heavens, and the growing heat already almost unbearable. They stripped to their shirt and trousers while the sweat rolled in streams from the faces of the oarsmen.

While nearing the Wanderer rapidly they noticed a faint, dark line approaching up from the southeast along the line of the coast.

"A wind, by thunder!" exclaimed Duff, renewing his efforts at the oar. "Look! the corvette already feels it. Give way, Ben? Gary is none too good to leave us yet if the wind reaches him before we do."

Ralph, now rested, sprang forward.

"Take the tiller, Ben," said he. "I'm good for a sharp pull."

But the old sailor, whose muscles were like whipcord, shook his head and fairly made the yawl spring beneath his redoubled strokes.

For the next three or four minutes Duff kept his eye upon the advancing line, behind which a sea of steely ripples danced in the sunlight.

The cruiser, slowly heeling to leeward, veered her bow round to her course, and Duff could see the dash of water about her cutwater as she forged ahead. Still the Wanderer lay motionless, like a beautiful picture, every sail that would draw set to catch the first whiff of the breeze that was bringing the corvette slowly within range.

Less than three miles separated the vessels, while the yawl, scarcely four hundred yards from the schooner, was lessening the distance rapidly. But the breeze traveled faster.

Ralph could see Gary in the rigging watching the cruiser through a glass. No attention seemed to be paid to the boat.

Three hundred yards--then two hundred--one hundred; and as the distance lessened their spirits rose. They were, however, half a cable length away, when a sullen boom was heard, and a solid shot came skipping along the surface of the sea to the left of the schooner.

"That is an order to 'stay where you are'," remarked Duff. "Ah! here comes our wind," he added, as a cool, refreshing whiff fanned their brows. "Any other time and I would welcome it; but--come down on her, Ben!"

Ralph, fancying that he saw the Wanderer's sails beginning to fill, sprang forward, seized an extra oar and pulled with all his might. The tired muscles were strained in a final effort, and the moist veins bulged about their temples.

"Boat ahoy!" came from the schooner. "Look alive or we'll leave you."

"Leave----" the rest of Duff's exclamation was lost as he threw his whole effort into a last spurt.

The shadow of the lofty sails was towering over the yawl when the Wanderer began to glide ahead. Another gun from the cruiser, and the ball drove between boat and schooner, missing the first by but a few yards.

"Boat there! Make ready for a rope!"

A sailor sprang upon the taffrail and the next instant a slim line uncoiled itself over the water. Duff, springing up, caught the end on his oar blade, and by a dexterous twist brought it within reach.

As he rose from making it fast, the yawl was spinning through the water in the schooner's wake, as the latter, heeling to the wind, responded like a thing of life to the wishes of those on board.

Hand over hand the mate drew the heavily laden boat under the Wanderer's lee, made fast the davits as they were lowered, and a moment or two later the three tired boatmen found themselves safely on deck.

When the ample supply of meat and vegetables was hoisted over the bulwarks, the few who had time to look were loud in their expressions of approval. Captain Gary hardly vouchsafed them more than a glance. To Duff, however, he briefly said:

"We had warning in the night that the Adams" (a sailing vessel in the old United States navy) "was making up the coast, and we had to pull out. We're short of water. Your grub comes in handy, though."

"I suppose then we might have been left, had we been a little later, or the wind had sprung up sooner."

The captain shrugged his shoulders, then glowered at Ralph, who was relating his adventures to several men about the cook's galley.

"When John Bull or Uncle Sam are as close as that fellow yonder, a slaver has to look out for himself. Now, Mr. Duff, you are a gunner, I understand. I want you to make ready our stern chaser. If they keep on firing we must try to cripple their sailing powers if we can. It's lucky she didn't happen to be a steamer."

But Duff, already somewhat piqued by Gary's apparent indifference as to whether the yawl was picked up or not, drew himself up stiffly.

"When I shipped with you, Captain Gary," he replied, "there was nothing said about my serving as a gunner. I must respectfully decline to fire on an American ship. I am too much of an American myself."

Without waiting for the burst of anger which he knew would follow this mutinous(?) delivery, the second mate wheeled and made his way to the galley, where he ordered Neb to serve him breakfast in the cabin.

Gary gave vent to a subdued oath or two, then bottled his wrath for a more auspicious occasion.

Meanwhile the Wanderer, when once fully under way, began to evince her remarkable sailing qualities, especially in light winds. She steadily drew away from the cruiser, whose people, having obtained the range, were sending shot after shot, with a view of crippling the schooner's sailing powers.

One round shot tore a great hole through the mainsail, as it went shrieking by. Gary himself, aided by Rucker, got ready one of the two guns wherewith the Wanderer was equipped and soon returned their fire, though no effect was manifest.

The cruiser must have been informed of the character of the slaver, or she would not have attempted to cripple her so persistently. Duff, after eating, returned to the quarter-deck, where he watched with folded arms the rather unskillful efforts to handle the long twelve pounder pointed sternwards from the Wanderer's waist. At each discharge a chorus of cries from the hold reminded him of their living cargo, deepening still more his disgust at the nature of the venture into which he had been inveigled.

The breeze began to freshen and whip somewhat to the southwest. Duff went forward to where Gary and Rucker were trying to sight the loaded gun.

"Shall I have the sheets trimmed, Captain Gary," he asked.

Gary surveyed the mate from head to foot with cool insolence. Then he stamped his foot.

"You shall either go before the mast as a common sailor, or you can remain a prisoner in your stateroom during my pleasure. If I gave you your deserts, I'd have you clapped in irons."

"As a sailor you would probably put me in irons for again refusing to fire, should you order me to; so I will go to the cabin. Take notice, however, Captain Gary, I protest against your treatment. To fire on an American man-of-war under these circumstances is piracy, and I submit that no captain has a right to issue such orders to true American seamen."

Gary's fury was such that he laid hold of one of the cutlasses in the rack at the foot of the mainmast, but the screech of a shot and the crash of a splintered topsail boom, diverted his attention.

Duff, laying aside his own weapon, descended to the cabin.

"Up with you!" shouted the captain. "Lay out along the fo's'l gaff there. Lively now!"