Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine.Coaling the Catcher.Lieutenant Webster joined the Portuguese officer in the chart-room, where, with his gallant attempts to speak French, and his readiness to join in the laughter at his own most amusing blunders, he quite charmed Lieutenant Gobo, who grew confidential, and imparted an interesting item of news.“You will remain with us, amigo mio, and we will crack many a bottle of old Madeira in a posado kept by an old man with two lovely daughters.”“Thanks, señor, with pleasure, if we do not depart to-morrow.”“To-morrow! What say you? We have a proverb that says that the wages of to-morrow mock the promise of yesterday. To-morrow you will all be our very good guests.”“For my part, nothing would please me better; but our Captain has said that to-morrow he will sail, and he is a very devil—diavolo—eh?”“You speak idly, my friend. I assure you to-morrow this ship of yours will be seized.”“How so, Lieutenant? We have no quarrel with Portugal; and, moreover, there is no craft here that could overhaul us.”“Not here at present, señor, but it is coming.”“Your glass is empty, Lieutenant. Is this a British ship you speak of?—for I know none other that could capture us.”“There are other ships than British afloat,” said the officer, twirling his moustache. “The ship I speak of flies the Brazilian flag: theEsperanzasloop of war, which, providentially, left Lisbon two days since, and may be here at any hour. She was advised of the escape of your boat from the Thames, and has warned us to be on the watch. Juarez is her commander, and I tell you he also is a devil. Ha! ha!”“I perceive,” said Webster, with a laugh, “you have been too smart for us. We English are sometimes very dull.”“Truly, mon ami, in quickness of wit, as in matters of love, we of the South are superior to you heavy islanders. But you are good comrades, nevertheless. Your health, señor.”“I see the bottle’s empty. Pardon me, Lieutenant, while I overhaul the locker.” Webster, with an innocent look on his bronzed face, went below and sent a message to the Captain.“Sir,” he said, as the Captain approached, “there is a Brazilian sloop of war in pursuit of us. She may be here to-night, or in the morning.”“How did you learn this?” asked Captain Pardoe, with a dark look.“From that yellow-skinned effigy on deck. TheSwiftis to be taken to-morrow and the crew landed. It is all settled.”“Is it?” said the Captain, with a peculiar smile. “We shall see to that Hume will presently leave for the shore with two men. As soon as his boat is clear have these soldiers seized and bound. Take your measures quietly, Mr Webster, and be very careful that they do not cry out.”“What’s on foot, Captain?”“We mean to have that coal, my boy, sloop or no sloop. Thunder, do they suppose I’ll surrender to a sloop after defying a British cruiser! You have your orders.” The Captain went down to the engine-room; and Webster, after securing another bottle, gave a few sharp words of instruction to the Quartermaster, who received them with a grin.Soon after a boat from the shore came alongside with a gendarme, who, after a few words with Lieutenant Gobo, received a note from that officer and returned.“I have assured my Captain,” said the Lieutenant to Webster, “that we are friendly here, and that while one of your men is ashore he need not take extra precautions.”“What precautions are, then, necessary?”“Oh, a boat or two of soldadoes!”“Mr Hume!” cried the Captain, from his position on the bridge, “you will take the boat for Mr Dixon, and see what arrangements you can make for coaling to-morrow.”The Lieutenant jogged Webster in the ribs.“Is he not droll—this Captain of yours?”“Very droll,” remarked Webster, with a meaning look at the Quartermaster, who stood near.Hume swung into the boat with two men, and gave the order to push off.Webster leaned over the side, ran his eyes over the men on deck who were drinking with the three soldiers, then spoke a word to the Quartermaster, who immediately joined the group, placing himself as he did so between the soldiers and their rifles, which rested against the side.Webster strolled to the chart house, took another look at the group on guard, then flung himself on the Lieutenant, pinning that astonished individual by the throat. There was a scuffle forward, a smothered cry or so, and in a minute the four Portuguese were bound and gagged.“Lower the long boat, Mr Webster,” said the Captain in low tones.This was done by the now thoroughly alert and expectant crew in silence.“Man the boat, take a tow-line, and make for the coal barges.”Four men dropped into the boat, a tow-line was made fast.“Weigh anchor and deaden the noise with tow. Let the flukes hang for the present.”Quietly and slowly the anchor came in. Webster entered the boat, the tow-line tautened, and theSwiftgradually moved off in the direction of the barges.Meanwhile Hume had met a boat half-way from the shore, with the chief engineer on board, and taking him in, waited till the shore boat had rowed out of hearing, then shaped for the barges.“You are shaping a wrong course for theSwift, Mr Hume.”“We are making for two barges laden with coal, Mr Dixon.”“Oh, oh, what’s in the wind?”“These beggars won’t give us coal, so we mean to take it. We will approach the barges quietly, board them, and secure the people on board. Will you assist us, Mr Dixon?”“Certainly, my boy; and what’s the Captain doing meanwhile?”“He’ll be alongside very soon after we have done our business. No doubt he’s on the move now, with a tow-line out. Gently, men, I think I see the loom of something dark.”They stole softly up to the unwieldy boats, going alongside one which had an awning forward, made the boat fast, then clambered on deck. One of the sailors walked along the broadside, and reconnoitred. There were two men only, sleeping on a rough bed of sacks, their forms dimly outlined by the light of a lantern. He then crossed to the other boat, which was unoccupied. He made his report, and next minute the sleepers were aroused to find four men standing over them. They permitted themselves to be bound without a murmur, on an assurance from Hume that they would not be harmed.A few minutes later theSwiftcrept up, took in her boat, and got up steam.“Make fast the tow-line to the barges, Mr Hume,” came an order from the Captain.“It is done, sir.”“Cut the moorings.”The rope was cut, and theSwiftsteamed out, towing the barges, until she had rounded the south-western point below Funchal, when she dropped anchor, and all hands, including the two Portuguese sailors, were hard at it, transferring her coal to the torpedo-catcher. The coal was in sacks, the steam tackle was set in motion, and with a loud noise that sooner or later would reach the ears of the people ashore, the precious cargo was swung on board and shot down the shoots, covering every part of the deck and rigging with grit. The long, low steamer lay sandwiched between the barges, and while the steam tackle worked aft, forward the sacks were handled by the men, everyone, except Miss Anstrade and Mr Commins, lending a willing hand.They had been hard at work for an hour, when a confused babble of shouting was heard from the port, and shortly after they saw a shaft of light shoot into the sky and glance across the harbour. It was the flash-light from the little fort, and no doubt revealed the absence of steamer and coal barges.Presently they heard the beat of engines—a steamer’s light appeared round the point.“Show a light, Mr Webster. We don’t want to be run down.”A red light was hung out over the stem.“Keep on with your work,” shouted the Captain, as the men paused to watch the progress of the steamer.“Carambo! Señor Capitaine, what in the devil’s name is the meaning of this?” shouted a deep voice from the steamer, in furious accents.“Quien es?”“Demonios! Colonel Alvaro, commander of the fort. What mean you by moving off like a thief in the dark? It is an offence against Portugal and the laws.”Captain Pardoe laughed. “I am merely taking coal for which I am willing to pay. Will you receive the money?”“Yes,” said a strange voice; “I represent the coal company.”There was an altercation on board the tug, for such it proved to be.“I protest, Colonel Alvaro. When I have received payment you may do what you like. Lower a boat.”Colonel Alvaro gave way, the boat was lowered, and a young Englishman stepped on board, who was immediately taken below, where he made a good bargain.“Now, Captain,” he said, after securing a roll of notes, “you have acted in a high-handed manner, and it is no business of mine to help you, but the sooner you move the better. The warshipEsperanzahas been signalled, and will be here in half an hour.”“Thank you,” said the Captain, with a grim smile; “we can look after ourselves. Mr Webster, release the soldiers, and let them return with these gentlemen.”Webster did so, and could not forbear chaffing Lieutenant Gobo. “We are no match for you, Lieutenant, in resource, but you see we are having our own way.”“Matre de Dios!” cried the Lieutenant, grinding his teeth, “you will pay for this, you base picaro!” and he shot a vengeful glance at Webster and Hume, who stood close by, their faces black with coal-dust.Little did they dream that Gobo would make good his threat.The tug waited for its boat, then steamed away towards the harbour at great speed, Colonel Alvaro and Lieutenant Gobo shouting a string of threats as to what they would do on their return.Mr Dixon reported that the bunkers were filled.“Stack a row of sacks along the sides, and have them lashed. Get a full head of steam up. Mr Webster, cast this boat off from the port side.”Soon the steam from the escape pipe set up its shrill clamour.The Captain mounted to the bridge, and with his night glass fixed to his eye searched the mouth of the harbour.“See that row of lights, Captain?” said Miss Laura.“A steamer just entering the harbour.”“And there is another light moving.”“That is the tug which just left us. Is there much more coal left, Mr Webster?”“About fifty sacks, sir, I should say.”“Whip them in, then. All firemen get below.” He approached the tube. “Stand by, Mr Dixon!”The steamer which had just entered the harbour put out her lights, but there was a glow from her funnels which revealed her movements, as it grew rapidly brighter.“All aboard!” shouted the Captain. “Cast off the barge!” The men clambered from the barge, and the unwieldy craft was shoved away.“Full speed ahead!”The water was lashed by the screws, theSwiftvibrated like a living thing, and shot away, leaving the barges rocking on the swell she had kicked up.“Surely, Captain,” said Miss Anstrade, “that steamer is following us!”“She is, Miss Laura, sure enough. It is the Brazilian shipEsperanza, Captain Don Juarez.”“Don Juarez,” said the girl, in a startled whisper. “O, Santissima Maria,” she added, with a passionate cry, “that treacherous dog, the murderer of my brother! Captain Pardoe, you must not fly. Mr Webster, listen to me.”“Laura, my dear girl,” said Mr Commins, laying his hand on her arm.She shook him off with an angry gesture, and turned her flashing eyes on the Captain, while her bosom heaved.Some of the men had heard her cry, and stood near the bridge.“Men,” she said, in quick, excited tones, “hear me! That is a Brazilian warship behind. It is commanded by a man who has done me a most fearful wrong. You are Englishmen, and I ask you—”“Enough, madam,” whispered Pardoe sternly. Then, raising his voice, “Clear the guns for action.”The Quartermaster’s shrill whistle rang out in immediate response, and in reply a flame of fire leapt out from the darkness astern, followed by the screech of a shell.

Lieutenant Webster joined the Portuguese officer in the chart-room, where, with his gallant attempts to speak French, and his readiness to join in the laughter at his own most amusing blunders, he quite charmed Lieutenant Gobo, who grew confidential, and imparted an interesting item of news.

“You will remain with us, amigo mio, and we will crack many a bottle of old Madeira in a posado kept by an old man with two lovely daughters.”

“Thanks, señor, with pleasure, if we do not depart to-morrow.”

“To-morrow! What say you? We have a proverb that says that the wages of to-morrow mock the promise of yesterday. To-morrow you will all be our very good guests.”

“For my part, nothing would please me better; but our Captain has said that to-morrow he will sail, and he is a very devil—diavolo—eh?”

“You speak idly, my friend. I assure you to-morrow this ship of yours will be seized.”

“How so, Lieutenant? We have no quarrel with Portugal; and, moreover, there is no craft here that could overhaul us.”

“Not here at present, señor, but it is coming.”

“Your glass is empty, Lieutenant. Is this a British ship you speak of?—for I know none other that could capture us.”

“There are other ships than British afloat,” said the officer, twirling his moustache. “The ship I speak of flies the Brazilian flag: theEsperanzasloop of war, which, providentially, left Lisbon two days since, and may be here at any hour. She was advised of the escape of your boat from the Thames, and has warned us to be on the watch. Juarez is her commander, and I tell you he also is a devil. Ha! ha!”

“I perceive,” said Webster, with a laugh, “you have been too smart for us. We English are sometimes very dull.”

“Truly, mon ami, in quickness of wit, as in matters of love, we of the South are superior to you heavy islanders. But you are good comrades, nevertheless. Your health, señor.”

“I see the bottle’s empty. Pardon me, Lieutenant, while I overhaul the locker.” Webster, with an innocent look on his bronzed face, went below and sent a message to the Captain.

“Sir,” he said, as the Captain approached, “there is a Brazilian sloop of war in pursuit of us. She may be here to-night, or in the morning.”

“How did you learn this?” asked Captain Pardoe, with a dark look.

“From that yellow-skinned effigy on deck. TheSwiftis to be taken to-morrow and the crew landed. It is all settled.”

“Is it?” said the Captain, with a peculiar smile. “We shall see to that Hume will presently leave for the shore with two men. As soon as his boat is clear have these soldiers seized and bound. Take your measures quietly, Mr Webster, and be very careful that they do not cry out.”

“What’s on foot, Captain?”

“We mean to have that coal, my boy, sloop or no sloop. Thunder, do they suppose I’ll surrender to a sloop after defying a British cruiser! You have your orders.” The Captain went down to the engine-room; and Webster, after securing another bottle, gave a few sharp words of instruction to the Quartermaster, who received them with a grin.

Soon after a boat from the shore came alongside with a gendarme, who, after a few words with Lieutenant Gobo, received a note from that officer and returned.

“I have assured my Captain,” said the Lieutenant to Webster, “that we are friendly here, and that while one of your men is ashore he need not take extra precautions.”

“What precautions are, then, necessary?”

“Oh, a boat or two of soldadoes!”

“Mr Hume!” cried the Captain, from his position on the bridge, “you will take the boat for Mr Dixon, and see what arrangements you can make for coaling to-morrow.”

The Lieutenant jogged Webster in the ribs.

“Is he not droll—this Captain of yours?”

“Very droll,” remarked Webster, with a meaning look at the Quartermaster, who stood near.

Hume swung into the boat with two men, and gave the order to push off.

Webster leaned over the side, ran his eyes over the men on deck who were drinking with the three soldiers, then spoke a word to the Quartermaster, who immediately joined the group, placing himself as he did so between the soldiers and their rifles, which rested against the side.

Webster strolled to the chart house, took another look at the group on guard, then flung himself on the Lieutenant, pinning that astonished individual by the throat. There was a scuffle forward, a smothered cry or so, and in a minute the four Portuguese were bound and gagged.

“Lower the long boat, Mr Webster,” said the Captain in low tones.

This was done by the now thoroughly alert and expectant crew in silence.

“Man the boat, take a tow-line, and make for the coal barges.”

Four men dropped into the boat, a tow-line was made fast.

“Weigh anchor and deaden the noise with tow. Let the flukes hang for the present.”

Quietly and slowly the anchor came in. Webster entered the boat, the tow-line tautened, and theSwiftgradually moved off in the direction of the barges.

Meanwhile Hume had met a boat half-way from the shore, with the chief engineer on board, and taking him in, waited till the shore boat had rowed out of hearing, then shaped for the barges.

“You are shaping a wrong course for theSwift, Mr Hume.”

“We are making for two barges laden with coal, Mr Dixon.”

“Oh, oh, what’s in the wind?”

“These beggars won’t give us coal, so we mean to take it. We will approach the barges quietly, board them, and secure the people on board. Will you assist us, Mr Dixon?”

“Certainly, my boy; and what’s the Captain doing meanwhile?”

“He’ll be alongside very soon after we have done our business. No doubt he’s on the move now, with a tow-line out. Gently, men, I think I see the loom of something dark.”

They stole softly up to the unwieldy boats, going alongside one which had an awning forward, made the boat fast, then clambered on deck. One of the sailors walked along the broadside, and reconnoitred. There were two men only, sleeping on a rough bed of sacks, their forms dimly outlined by the light of a lantern. He then crossed to the other boat, which was unoccupied. He made his report, and next minute the sleepers were aroused to find four men standing over them. They permitted themselves to be bound without a murmur, on an assurance from Hume that they would not be harmed.

A few minutes later theSwiftcrept up, took in her boat, and got up steam.

“Make fast the tow-line to the barges, Mr Hume,” came an order from the Captain.

“It is done, sir.”

“Cut the moorings.”

The rope was cut, and theSwiftsteamed out, towing the barges, until she had rounded the south-western point below Funchal, when she dropped anchor, and all hands, including the two Portuguese sailors, were hard at it, transferring her coal to the torpedo-catcher. The coal was in sacks, the steam tackle was set in motion, and with a loud noise that sooner or later would reach the ears of the people ashore, the precious cargo was swung on board and shot down the shoots, covering every part of the deck and rigging with grit. The long, low steamer lay sandwiched between the barges, and while the steam tackle worked aft, forward the sacks were handled by the men, everyone, except Miss Anstrade and Mr Commins, lending a willing hand.

They had been hard at work for an hour, when a confused babble of shouting was heard from the port, and shortly after they saw a shaft of light shoot into the sky and glance across the harbour. It was the flash-light from the little fort, and no doubt revealed the absence of steamer and coal barges.

Presently they heard the beat of engines—a steamer’s light appeared round the point.

“Show a light, Mr Webster. We don’t want to be run down.”

A red light was hung out over the stem.

“Keep on with your work,” shouted the Captain, as the men paused to watch the progress of the steamer.

“Carambo! Señor Capitaine, what in the devil’s name is the meaning of this?” shouted a deep voice from the steamer, in furious accents.

“Quien es?”

“Demonios! Colonel Alvaro, commander of the fort. What mean you by moving off like a thief in the dark? It is an offence against Portugal and the laws.”

Captain Pardoe laughed. “I am merely taking coal for which I am willing to pay. Will you receive the money?”

“Yes,” said a strange voice; “I represent the coal company.”

There was an altercation on board the tug, for such it proved to be.

“I protest, Colonel Alvaro. When I have received payment you may do what you like. Lower a boat.”

Colonel Alvaro gave way, the boat was lowered, and a young Englishman stepped on board, who was immediately taken below, where he made a good bargain.

“Now, Captain,” he said, after securing a roll of notes, “you have acted in a high-handed manner, and it is no business of mine to help you, but the sooner you move the better. The warshipEsperanzahas been signalled, and will be here in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” said the Captain, with a grim smile; “we can look after ourselves. Mr Webster, release the soldiers, and let them return with these gentlemen.”

Webster did so, and could not forbear chaffing Lieutenant Gobo. “We are no match for you, Lieutenant, in resource, but you see we are having our own way.”

“Matre de Dios!” cried the Lieutenant, grinding his teeth, “you will pay for this, you base picaro!” and he shot a vengeful glance at Webster and Hume, who stood close by, their faces black with coal-dust.

Little did they dream that Gobo would make good his threat.

The tug waited for its boat, then steamed away towards the harbour at great speed, Colonel Alvaro and Lieutenant Gobo shouting a string of threats as to what they would do on their return.

Mr Dixon reported that the bunkers were filled.

“Stack a row of sacks along the sides, and have them lashed. Get a full head of steam up. Mr Webster, cast this boat off from the port side.”

Soon the steam from the escape pipe set up its shrill clamour.

The Captain mounted to the bridge, and with his night glass fixed to his eye searched the mouth of the harbour.

“See that row of lights, Captain?” said Miss Laura.

“A steamer just entering the harbour.”

“And there is another light moving.”

“That is the tug which just left us. Is there much more coal left, Mr Webster?”

“About fifty sacks, sir, I should say.”

“Whip them in, then. All firemen get below.” He approached the tube. “Stand by, Mr Dixon!”

The steamer which had just entered the harbour put out her lights, but there was a glow from her funnels which revealed her movements, as it grew rapidly brighter.

“All aboard!” shouted the Captain. “Cast off the barge!” The men clambered from the barge, and the unwieldy craft was shoved away.

“Full speed ahead!”

The water was lashed by the screws, theSwiftvibrated like a living thing, and shot away, leaving the barges rocking on the swell she had kicked up.

“Surely, Captain,” said Miss Anstrade, “that steamer is following us!”

“She is, Miss Laura, sure enough. It is the Brazilian shipEsperanza, Captain Don Juarez.”

“Don Juarez,” said the girl, in a startled whisper. “O, Santissima Maria,” she added, with a passionate cry, “that treacherous dog, the murderer of my brother! Captain Pardoe, you must not fly. Mr Webster, listen to me.”

“Laura, my dear girl,” said Mr Commins, laying his hand on her arm.

She shook him off with an angry gesture, and turned her flashing eyes on the Captain, while her bosom heaved.

Some of the men had heard her cry, and stood near the bridge.

“Men,” she said, in quick, excited tones, “hear me! That is a Brazilian warship behind. It is commanded by a man who has done me a most fearful wrong. You are Englishmen, and I ask you—”

“Enough, madam,” whispered Pardoe sternly. Then, raising his voice, “Clear the guns for action.”

The Quartermaster’s shrill whistle rang out in immediate response, and in reply a flame of fire leapt out from the darkness astern, followed by the screech of a shell.

Chapter Ten.Pursued.TheSwiftwas a formidable fighting ship, though built to tackle the midgets of the sea—the 130 feet torpedo boats. She had no torpedo-tube in the stem, which had been strengthened for ramming; but she carried two tubes at the stern, one four-inch quick-firing gun, two six-pounders forward, and two twelve-pounders on pedestals. Including the officers, there were twenty men to work the ship and guns, and a staff of ten firemen and engineers. The seamen were picked men, tempted by high pay, and all of them showed the unmistakable stamp of strict training and discipline. They were, in fact, men of the Naval Reserve, recruited by the Quartermaster—hard, weather-beaten, and, except when off duty, still-mouthed. The Quartermaster, Henderson, was black-bearded and swarthy, like the Captain, and it was rumoured among the men that this was not the first time the two of them had shipped in the same capacity in blockade-running in the wars of South American Republics. The conning-tower, a small chamber, fitted with tubes, knobs, levers, and a spare wheel, and walled in with thick plates of toughened steel, was just forward of the first funnel. Beyond it was a turtle-backed deck of iron, and on either side were the six-pounders, protected by bullet-proof shields. The Captain could fire the aft torpedo guns by electricity from the conning-tower.“Clear the guns for action, and slacken speed.”The shrill, clear notes of the whistle rang out the sharp summons, and the men sprang to their positions with an alacrity which had not marked their actions when threatened by the British warships. Then they had done their duty sullenly, with a sense of ill-omen at having to encounter their own flag; but now they were on a different footing in respect to this new foe, and eager to be at some other game than always on the run.“If our Captain’s half as good at fighting as he is at running,” growled the sailor known as Dick the Owl, for his night eye, “we’ll have a bellyful, eh, mate? and good luck to it.”“Eh, it’s a queer thing, Dick, that we navy men should be under these port-to-port cargo and hat-box carriers, but the Captain’s got red lights in his head when there’s danger afoot, and maybe he’ll be a good ’un to follow.”“As good as any you would find on the bridge of any battleship afloat, my men,” said Lieutenant Webster, who had been standing by unobserved.“Beg pardon, sir,” said the men, touching their caps.“That’s all right, my men; we’ve got to know each other yet,” replied the Lieutenant, with a kindliness that won their hearts. “Wash down the decks first,” he cried; “we’ll not go down to Davy’s locker disguised in soot, like imps of darkness. Out with the hose.”The men laughed as they screwed on the hose to the hydrants and poured on a stream of water, sweeping the grimy decks from stem to stern.“Now, get below for a sluice and a dram,” cried the cheery voice of the Lieutenant, whose idea of handling a crew was not according to naval instructions. The men trooped down the narrow companion-way laughing and joking in their excitement; but the roar of the enemy’s guns, as he fell round to port, and brought his starboard broadside to bear, was a summons that brought them tumbling on deck again ere they had time to wipe their mouths with a backhanded swipe.“Steady, men, and to your quarters,” said the Captain quietly; “all but the men for the big gun, who will go below.”Five men had taken their position about the big gun, which stood with its chase pointing up, as though looking away to the horizon for its enemy. These men stood astonished at the order.“Below, men,” said Lieutenant Webster, approaching them; “you’ll not be wanted till morning,” he added, as he noted their sidelong looks.They went down in silence; and, by the pressure of a button in the conning-tower, the Captain lowered the long gun into the deck, the same machinery sliding a heavy shield of toughened steel over the opening left by its disappearance. This gun had been specially built for the catcher, and was of a larger calibre than the guns usually carried by that kind of craft. It rose or fell on a strong powerful lever, on a modified principle used for the disappearing guns; and the frame of the ship had been strengthened amidships to bear the strain. It could be loaded and fought on deck, or loaded below and fired from the conning-tower when at close quarters, and had been christened “The Ghost,” after a trial made before reaching Madeira. “The Ghost” was turned out at the Elswick Works, and could fire sixty fifty-pound projectiles in ten minutes.“We’ve laid our ghost,” said Webster to Hume, who, being quite fresh to this part of the business, stood looking out into the blackness astern in a state of suspense; “we’ve laid our ghost, and must raise theirs.”“Is that you, Mr Webster?” said the Captain, leaning over the bridge.“Yes, sir!”“I must ask you to go to your cabin.”“To my cabin, sir?”“Yes; I will not want you till daybreak, and you will fight all the better, then, for a good sleep. Take off the men from the six-pounders—the fewer on board the better.”Webster went below with six men from the two guns, leaving on deck eight hands in all to work the ship and the two twelve-pounders. One of these was at the wheel in the conning-tower; another was stationed forward on the lookout; and the others were in two steel towers, which were aft, about three feet above the deck, protecting the men from the hail of missiles that might be discharged from the machine guns, while their sloping sides would deflect larger projectiles.“Mr Hume!”“Sir.”“Join me on the bridge.”Frank mounted to the low bridge, and went close to the dark figure of the Captain for companionship. They were unprotected by steel armour, and for himself he experienced a feeling of complete helplessness. He felt that up there he was a mark for every gun aimed at theSwift, and that without any power of retaliation.“It is a fine night,” he said aimlessly, looking up at the starry sky.“A very fine night, indeed,” said the Captain, taking hold of his beard with both hands; “but there’ll be rain in the morning.”Frank brought his eyes down from the stare to a red eye that gleamed far astern.The Captain took a couple of steps, and spoke down the tube: “Please attend to your fires; there are too many sparks.”Frank wondered at the Captain’s quiet tones. Usually he was sharp and rough; now he spoke as though he were asking for a second cup of tea.“I knew it,” said the Captain.The red eye astern was dimmed by two livid flashes. Frank heard the dull reports, and then with a thrill down his back listened to the cry of the shells as they sped on. The enemy had as yet done no damage, but he knew that these shrieking messengers had at last scented their foe. He jerked his head violently as the shriek rose to a fiendish scream, and a swift rush of air swept across his face, whilst the crushing of iron behind him told that the shot had struck. It passed through the forward funnel as though it had been a sheet of paper, and the smoke came pouring out of the holes.“They’ve got our range at last, and it’s lucky for us they have no search-light.”“I’ll go and get my rifle,” said Frank.The Captain chuckled: “She’s a mile off, at least; and if not, you might just as well puff at a whale with a pea-shooter. Still, I know how you feel. It’s devilish hard to stand fire without giving back.” He raised his voice: “Fire!”The twelve-pounders spoke together, belching out balls of fast revolving smoke, and spurring the ship on with their recoil.“It’s no good, of course,” muttered the Captain; “but it will encourage them to keep up the chase.”“Why not give them the big gun, Captain?” asked Frank impatiently.“A waste of ammunition; and we’ll want all we have when we get near the end of our voyage. I could turn and engage them, but I like to see what I am about, and all I want to do now is to encourage them. There she goes round; see her port lights; she’ll give us another broadside, and do you count the flashes.”“Count the flashes,” thought Frank; “does he think this is a review?”The twelve-pounders let go at the row of lights, and as the smoke rolled away there came a muffled roar, and in an instant, it seemed to Frank, the air was full of shells. The water was cup up astern, and one projectile struck the turtle-backed deck forward, and went humming into the black of the night.“She carries six guns to the broadside, I think. What do you make it?”“A dozen, at least, Captain, and heavy metal,” said Frank, wetting his lips.“No more than six and twelve-pounders. A larger shell sets up a different music, as you will soon learn. Still, I don’t like it; their gunners are too smart.”The Captain took a turn up and down the bridge, then sent a shout to the Quartermaster to cease fire.“Mr Hume, you will find a life-belt on the starboard side, opposite the hatchway, with a canister attached. Cut it adrift.”Frank found the belt, and sent it overboard.“Keep her three spokes to port.”The steersman starboarded the helm, and theSwiftwent off at an angle to her former course, whilst the canister, on reaching the water, flared out in a brilliant blaze in the ship’s former wake.Before Frank had reached the bridge the enemy had come round and fired his two forward guns, then, keeping on to port, quickly let go his starboard broadside. The water about the floating flare was dashed up in showers.The Captain slapped Hume on the back as he reached the bridge.“That’s a simple trick, eh! and we could slip away as easy as winking if we had a mind to. Lord, won’t they howl when they find how they have been done!”There came a hearty guffaw from the towers aft as the men saw through the Captain’s joke.“Lord, there he goes again,” as the forward guns again belched forth; “what a ferocious devil the commander must be! He takes that light to be a signal, and imagines he is firing at a crippled ship, the devil.”The Quartermaster came forward. “The enemy has slackened off, sir.”“Is that so?” said the Captain, taking a long look at the steamer’s lights. “Ha, I have it,” and he smacked his fist in his hand, showing the first symptoms of excitement. “He thinks we’ve gone down, and we’ll lay-to till morning, which can’t be far off.”“There’ll be grey light in an hour, sir.”The Captain kept his eye on the steamer’s light, which rose and fell, but kept its place.“Quartermaster, take your men below for some hot grog and a bite, and rouse Mr Webster.”“Ay, ay, sir.”The Captain went to the tube. “Slacken speed, Mr Dixon, and be very careful with your fires. Starboard your helm; bring her round.”TheSwiftwent round with a steady swing, bringing the enemy’s light on her port bows, instead of over her starboard stern rails.The men lingered awhile to see the manoeuvre finished, and then went below, satisfied there was to be a fight.“Keep her on that course now,” said the Captain to the steersman.“Mr Webster,” he continued, as that officer stepped briskly up and took a glance round, “see that everything is in readiness, and that the men take their positions without a word. Within an hour the fight will begin.”“Begin, sir? You’ve been at it this past three hours, and I’ve been in and out of my bunk a dozen—times, while the men are all on the quiver.”“We haven’t come to knocks yet. I’ll present my card in the morning with a fifty-pound rat-tat.”Webster laughed gaily as he set about his duties, and presently the men gathered silently to their posts, some of them every now and again stealing to the sides to make out the whereabouts of the enemy and the meaning of the manoeuvre, which puzzled them, as one might gather from their whispered arguments.TheSwiftdoubled back towards the eastern horizon, where the darkness was quickly melting into the grey of dawn, and a deep silence rested on the ship, and over the shining heave of waters. Slowly the enemy’s light was overhauled, then sank astern, but theSwiftkept on its way until a tint of pink appeared in the sky and the stars suddenly paled.“The time has come,” said the Captain. “Are you all ready?”“Ay, ay, sir!” came the answer in suppressed tones.“Round with her, my man, on the port tack.”TheSwiftrushed round, and there was a murmur of admiring criticism from the old tars as they now understood the meaning of the Captain’s manoeuvre.“They are satisfied now,” said the Captain, grimly, to Frank. “They thought all along, I’ll be bound, that I could not fight this ship.”“I confess, sir, I don’t understand your tactics.”“Well, I suppose you don’t. The enemy’s fighting strength is evidently in her bow guns. So is ours. I have got the ’vantage of her by going into action on her beam. Mark me, before she can bear her bow guns on us she’ll be crippled. Full steam ahead!” he shouted, and the low craft rushed forward.The whole horizon on the east was now bathed in light, and in a moment the blood-red disc of the sun flamed above the black line of the waters, while streamers of light shot into the sky. Straight ahead there rose a dark object. A shaft of golden light stretching across the waters struck full upon it, and there stood out in a glory of softest fire the tall masts and long black hull of the Brazilian ship. She was at rest, rising and falling gently; but there was a terrible awakening in store. Every minute brought her into clearer relief, though from the dark background beyond there was a blur about her deck, out of which, however, presently there emerged distinct objects—her boats, her bridge unoccupied, the gilt scroll under her stern, over which idly dropped the Brazilian flag; and last of all, the chases of her port broadside grimly projecting, with a glint of red sunlight on their smooth cylinders.The two vessels were now distant about six hundred yards, and at last the careless lookout on the Brazilian ship saw something alarming astern in the fierce rush of the low grey craft. Some men dashed up the rigging to get a better view, and a small group gathered on the bridge.“We’ll wake ’em up!” shouted the Captain, springing into the conning-tower and pressing a button, which brought up “The Ghost” from its bed.The real action had begun; the night’s work had been child’s play. There was a terrific din as the long gun threw shot after shot, and in ten minutes a dense bank of smoke enveloped theSwift. The firing was suspended a minute.The Captain stood in the conning-tower, his hands on the wheel, and his eyes fixed in a narrow slit under the steel roof. Giving a turn of the wheel to starboard, he brought the stem free of the smoke, and saw the enemy slowly gathering way, while men rushed about her decks in a state of terrible confusion at this sudden tempest of shells that had poured upon them.Some damage had been done evidently, but principally to her top rigging. And now she spoke from her stern guns, but not allowing sufficiently for her height, the first stinging flight of shells went over the catcher.“Stand by the six-pounders!” cried the Captain, his voice rising to a roar. “Depress your muzzle, Mr Webster! Fire!”Again there was another tremendous fusillade, continuous and deafening, while the men’s eyes smarted from the sulphur in the smoke, and their throats grew dry and husky. For five minutes the rain of lead was kept up, and from the three guns one hundred projectiles tore into the sloop, plunged along the port side, and shattered her rigging. Lieutenant Webster devoted his second storm of fire at the stern guns, and the stanchions and bulwarks about them were ripped up, and the guns themselves dismounted.The order to cease fire was again given, and the Captain made a point to starboard just as the sloop was swinging round to bring her port broadside to bear.The ships were now but two hundred yards off, the sloop bearing off from the port quarter of the catcher in her attempt to come round and bring her bow guns to bear. Once she could do that she could blow theSwiftout of the water, but Captain Pardoe had foreseen the manoeuvre and was ready for it. Counting upon the narrow turning power of his boat, he swept on, and suddenly put the wheel hard to port, bringing the vessel round within her own length, and bringing the boats stern to stern. At the same moment he flashed the signal below to fire the stern torpedoes. Then he stepped out to watch the effect, and the men, with heaving chests and smoke-blackened faces, from which their eyes glared with the fever of battle, watched too. There was a cry from the deck of the sloop, as they saw the leap from the tubes of the two torpedoes, a hoarse cry from the Captain to the man at the wheel, a terrible pause, and then two lines of bubbles below the water marked the swift rush of the deadly tubes. One line, it was seen, would continue free of the ship, the other went straight for her stern, and a sailor, in a mad fit of rage, first discharged his rifle at the approaching torpedo, then plunged overboard with a wild yell. A moment later there was a muffled roar, a vast column of water was thrown up, followed by a rending and grinding noise. The stern of the sloop was raised, then settled down in the trough of a great sea raised by the explosion. The torpedo had reached its mark, and Captain Pardoe stood by to give what assistance he could.There was the wildest consternation on board the sloop, and the rending noise continued; but though she lay helplessly on the water she showed no signs of sinking.The men on board theSwiftset up a hoarse cheer, and shook each other by the hand.“It’s twenty minutes since we went into action,” said Webster, wiping the blood from his brow. “Three cheers for our Captain, men!” and waving his hat, he led the hurrahs.“For the love of God,” cried a voice in English from the sloop, “help us!”“Strike your flag!” cried the Captain.The gay flag came down, and the Captain brought theSwiftnearer. “What is the matter?”“Your cursed torpedo has blown away our propeller, and the shaft—oh, Sancta Maria!—listen to it!—is breaking the ship.”“Why don’t you shut off steam?”“Our engineer is dead. Demonios! Don’t talk, but act.”“I’ll send our engineer to you.”“Quick, quick!”Mr Dixon came up from the bowels of theSwift, where, without the stimulant of action, he had stood by his work, animating his men with a quiet courage, which was the finer because he stood in absolute darkness regarding the progress of the fight, and knew that at any moment he might be sent to the bottom a helpless victim in an iron prison. His face was white and streaming with perspiration, and at the first touch of the cold air he reeled with dizziness, but when told what was required of him, he prepared for his new task without a word. TheSwiftmoved gently under the tall sides of the sloop, and the engineer, with Webster, Hume, and six men, were quickly on board. Mr Dixon went at once to the engine-room, whence proceeded a truly infernal din.“Where Is the Captain?” asked Webster of a dozen men round him.A short, thick-set, bullet-headed man, with a neck like a bull, and moustaches that reached up to his ears, stepped forward.“Your sword, Señor Juarez!”“I must know to whom I am asked to surrender.”“To the National flag,” said Webster haughtily.“Carambo! that is an excellent jest. Is the flag broad enough to cover the ships of every nation? And why should I surrender my sword?” he asked, with a fierce scowl, while his officers drew near threateningly.Webster stepped quickly to the bulwarks, and called to Captain Pardoe to stand away.That officer went at once full speed astern, and lay-to a cable length off, with the men at their guns.“You see?” said Webster.The Brazilian Captain, with a terrible malediction, broke his sword over his knee.“A thousand thunders!” he roared, while the black blood swelled in his temples, “to think I should have been beaten by that—that thing—and scarcely a boat’s crew hurt!”“It is the fortune of war,” said Webster, looking around. “But while we talk the ship may be sinking for want of a little sailor-like care. Have you a spare sail, señor?”The Brazilian Captain folded his arms and spat on the deck.“You surly brute!” cried Webster. “Here, men, cut away the mizzen sail!”In a trice the British sailors swarmed up to the mizzen yard and cast loose the sail, which came down with a thud, knocking a couple of yellow-faced sailors off their legs, whereat the tars up aloft laughed. At this a dozen of the enemy drew their knives and looked to their Captain for a word.It was a ticklish moment, and Hume pulled out a revolver, which he instantly presented at Juarez.“Good, my lad,” said Webster. “Shoot him down if he moves a foot. Do you understand, señor?”Juarez glared like a wild beast, and a hoarse, unintelligible cry escaped from his thick lips, but he kept quiet, while Webster, without another look at the scowling group, quickly slipped the great sail over the side, and had it drawn round and up over the damaged stern.In the meantime Mr Dixon, working down below, had stopped the engines and explored the shaft funnel, ascertaining the extent of the damage done by the shaft in its unchecked revolutions. He came on deck, wearied out, to be met by dark looks.“What’s the meaning of this?” said he.“The meaning is,” cried Webster, with a bitter look of contempt round, “that these cowardly hounds won’t lift a finger to help us, and I’m damned if my men will do another stroke to save them! Let the ship sink, and she is sinking fast.”“And you’ll sink with us!” roared Juarez. “Down with them; slit their throats!”There was a rush of men, and the little party were hemmed in.A young officer bounded forward with drawn sword, and wheeling round, faced his men.“Diavolo!” he hissed through his clenched teeth, “what devil’s game is this? You called to these gentlemen in your fear to help you, and now you would turn on them like base assassins. I tell you,” he cried passionately, “it shall not be!”Webster and Hume, with their blue eyes flashing, ranged up on either side of their unexpected friend, while the British tars stood with their cutlasses ready.Captain Pardoe, seeing something amiss, drew near. “Do you hear,” he shouted, “if you harm my men I’ll let go a torpedo.”The young officer repeated the message, and the men whispered among themselves, then threw down their arms.Juarez shot a venomous look at his officer, and placed his foot upon a knife, which, presently, he drew toward him.Webster thanked the gallant foe for his assistance, and assured him that the sloop would keep afloat until they reached Madeira. He then turned to the side to speak to Captain Pardoe, while Frank Hume walked aft to see what damage had been wrought by the fire of the catcher.There was a cry, and they turned to see the young officer fall, struck to the heart by the vengeful Captain. The next instant Juarez himself was cut to the deck by a slashing blow from a cutlass.At this act of black treachery the small boarding party were ready to make a furious rush, but the sloop’s officers and men looked on themselves appalled, while a young fellow, quite a boy, flung himself on the officer’s body in a passion of grief, then suddenly springing up, drew his knife and advanced towards Juarez.“Enough!” said Webster sternly.“Kill the black-hearted dog!” screamed the Brazilian sailors, giving vent to their hate for their brutal commander, which no doubt had been long pent up.“I see,” said Webster, with a grim smile; “we must get this fellow on board to save him from his friends.”He signalled to theSwift, and when she came alongside, Juarez, who still breathed heavily, was lowered to her deck.“What’s to be done with the sloop, sir?”“Oh, leave her, if she can float, and think ourselves lucky to be free of a gang of prisoners.”“She can reach Madeira by means of her sails.”“Take a look round, then, and come aboard.”Webster and Hume went aft, where all the damage done by theSwift’sguns had taken place, and there they found the bulwarks smashed to splinters, the two guns overturned, and the deck wet with blood from a dozen dead.With a last word of advice to the gloomy and silent officers of the sloop, Webster stepped overboard, and very soon theSwiftwent on her way.

TheSwiftwas a formidable fighting ship, though built to tackle the midgets of the sea—the 130 feet torpedo boats. She had no torpedo-tube in the stem, which had been strengthened for ramming; but she carried two tubes at the stern, one four-inch quick-firing gun, two six-pounders forward, and two twelve-pounders on pedestals. Including the officers, there were twenty men to work the ship and guns, and a staff of ten firemen and engineers. The seamen were picked men, tempted by high pay, and all of them showed the unmistakable stamp of strict training and discipline. They were, in fact, men of the Naval Reserve, recruited by the Quartermaster—hard, weather-beaten, and, except when off duty, still-mouthed. The Quartermaster, Henderson, was black-bearded and swarthy, like the Captain, and it was rumoured among the men that this was not the first time the two of them had shipped in the same capacity in blockade-running in the wars of South American Republics. The conning-tower, a small chamber, fitted with tubes, knobs, levers, and a spare wheel, and walled in with thick plates of toughened steel, was just forward of the first funnel. Beyond it was a turtle-backed deck of iron, and on either side were the six-pounders, protected by bullet-proof shields. The Captain could fire the aft torpedo guns by electricity from the conning-tower.

“Clear the guns for action, and slacken speed.”

The shrill, clear notes of the whistle rang out the sharp summons, and the men sprang to their positions with an alacrity which had not marked their actions when threatened by the British warships. Then they had done their duty sullenly, with a sense of ill-omen at having to encounter their own flag; but now they were on a different footing in respect to this new foe, and eager to be at some other game than always on the run.

“If our Captain’s half as good at fighting as he is at running,” growled the sailor known as Dick the Owl, for his night eye, “we’ll have a bellyful, eh, mate? and good luck to it.”

“Eh, it’s a queer thing, Dick, that we navy men should be under these port-to-port cargo and hat-box carriers, but the Captain’s got red lights in his head when there’s danger afoot, and maybe he’ll be a good ’un to follow.”

“As good as any you would find on the bridge of any battleship afloat, my men,” said Lieutenant Webster, who had been standing by unobserved.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said the men, touching their caps.

“That’s all right, my men; we’ve got to know each other yet,” replied the Lieutenant, with a kindliness that won their hearts. “Wash down the decks first,” he cried; “we’ll not go down to Davy’s locker disguised in soot, like imps of darkness. Out with the hose.”

The men laughed as they screwed on the hose to the hydrants and poured on a stream of water, sweeping the grimy decks from stem to stern.

“Now, get below for a sluice and a dram,” cried the cheery voice of the Lieutenant, whose idea of handling a crew was not according to naval instructions. The men trooped down the narrow companion-way laughing and joking in their excitement; but the roar of the enemy’s guns, as he fell round to port, and brought his starboard broadside to bear, was a summons that brought them tumbling on deck again ere they had time to wipe their mouths with a backhanded swipe.

“Steady, men, and to your quarters,” said the Captain quietly; “all but the men for the big gun, who will go below.”

Five men had taken their position about the big gun, which stood with its chase pointing up, as though looking away to the horizon for its enemy. These men stood astonished at the order.

“Below, men,” said Lieutenant Webster, approaching them; “you’ll not be wanted till morning,” he added, as he noted their sidelong looks.

They went down in silence; and, by the pressure of a button in the conning-tower, the Captain lowered the long gun into the deck, the same machinery sliding a heavy shield of toughened steel over the opening left by its disappearance. This gun had been specially built for the catcher, and was of a larger calibre than the guns usually carried by that kind of craft. It rose or fell on a strong powerful lever, on a modified principle used for the disappearing guns; and the frame of the ship had been strengthened amidships to bear the strain. It could be loaded and fought on deck, or loaded below and fired from the conning-tower when at close quarters, and had been christened “The Ghost,” after a trial made before reaching Madeira. “The Ghost” was turned out at the Elswick Works, and could fire sixty fifty-pound projectiles in ten minutes.

“We’ve laid our ghost,” said Webster to Hume, who, being quite fresh to this part of the business, stood looking out into the blackness astern in a state of suspense; “we’ve laid our ghost, and must raise theirs.”

“Is that you, Mr Webster?” said the Captain, leaning over the bridge.

“Yes, sir!”

“I must ask you to go to your cabin.”

“To my cabin, sir?”

“Yes; I will not want you till daybreak, and you will fight all the better, then, for a good sleep. Take off the men from the six-pounders—the fewer on board the better.”

Webster went below with six men from the two guns, leaving on deck eight hands in all to work the ship and the two twelve-pounders. One of these was at the wheel in the conning-tower; another was stationed forward on the lookout; and the others were in two steel towers, which were aft, about three feet above the deck, protecting the men from the hail of missiles that might be discharged from the machine guns, while their sloping sides would deflect larger projectiles.

“Mr Hume!”

“Sir.”

“Join me on the bridge.”

Frank mounted to the low bridge, and went close to the dark figure of the Captain for companionship. They were unprotected by steel armour, and for himself he experienced a feeling of complete helplessness. He felt that up there he was a mark for every gun aimed at theSwift, and that without any power of retaliation.

“It is a fine night,” he said aimlessly, looking up at the starry sky.

“A very fine night, indeed,” said the Captain, taking hold of his beard with both hands; “but there’ll be rain in the morning.”

Frank brought his eyes down from the stare to a red eye that gleamed far astern.

The Captain took a couple of steps, and spoke down the tube: “Please attend to your fires; there are too many sparks.”

Frank wondered at the Captain’s quiet tones. Usually he was sharp and rough; now he spoke as though he were asking for a second cup of tea.

“I knew it,” said the Captain.

The red eye astern was dimmed by two livid flashes. Frank heard the dull reports, and then with a thrill down his back listened to the cry of the shells as they sped on. The enemy had as yet done no damage, but he knew that these shrieking messengers had at last scented their foe. He jerked his head violently as the shriek rose to a fiendish scream, and a swift rush of air swept across his face, whilst the crushing of iron behind him told that the shot had struck. It passed through the forward funnel as though it had been a sheet of paper, and the smoke came pouring out of the holes.

“They’ve got our range at last, and it’s lucky for us they have no search-light.”

“I’ll go and get my rifle,” said Frank.

The Captain chuckled: “She’s a mile off, at least; and if not, you might just as well puff at a whale with a pea-shooter. Still, I know how you feel. It’s devilish hard to stand fire without giving back.” He raised his voice: “Fire!”

The twelve-pounders spoke together, belching out balls of fast revolving smoke, and spurring the ship on with their recoil.

“It’s no good, of course,” muttered the Captain; “but it will encourage them to keep up the chase.”

“Why not give them the big gun, Captain?” asked Frank impatiently.

“A waste of ammunition; and we’ll want all we have when we get near the end of our voyage. I could turn and engage them, but I like to see what I am about, and all I want to do now is to encourage them. There she goes round; see her port lights; she’ll give us another broadside, and do you count the flashes.”

“Count the flashes,” thought Frank; “does he think this is a review?”

The twelve-pounders let go at the row of lights, and as the smoke rolled away there came a muffled roar, and in an instant, it seemed to Frank, the air was full of shells. The water was cup up astern, and one projectile struck the turtle-backed deck forward, and went humming into the black of the night.

“She carries six guns to the broadside, I think. What do you make it?”

“A dozen, at least, Captain, and heavy metal,” said Frank, wetting his lips.

“No more than six and twelve-pounders. A larger shell sets up a different music, as you will soon learn. Still, I don’t like it; their gunners are too smart.”

The Captain took a turn up and down the bridge, then sent a shout to the Quartermaster to cease fire.

“Mr Hume, you will find a life-belt on the starboard side, opposite the hatchway, with a canister attached. Cut it adrift.”

Frank found the belt, and sent it overboard.

“Keep her three spokes to port.”

The steersman starboarded the helm, and theSwiftwent off at an angle to her former course, whilst the canister, on reaching the water, flared out in a brilliant blaze in the ship’s former wake.

Before Frank had reached the bridge the enemy had come round and fired his two forward guns, then, keeping on to port, quickly let go his starboard broadside. The water about the floating flare was dashed up in showers.

The Captain slapped Hume on the back as he reached the bridge.

“That’s a simple trick, eh! and we could slip away as easy as winking if we had a mind to. Lord, won’t they howl when they find how they have been done!”

There came a hearty guffaw from the towers aft as the men saw through the Captain’s joke.

“Lord, there he goes again,” as the forward guns again belched forth; “what a ferocious devil the commander must be! He takes that light to be a signal, and imagines he is firing at a crippled ship, the devil.”

The Quartermaster came forward. “The enemy has slackened off, sir.”

“Is that so?” said the Captain, taking a long look at the steamer’s lights. “Ha, I have it,” and he smacked his fist in his hand, showing the first symptoms of excitement. “He thinks we’ve gone down, and we’ll lay-to till morning, which can’t be far off.”

“There’ll be grey light in an hour, sir.”

The Captain kept his eye on the steamer’s light, which rose and fell, but kept its place.

“Quartermaster, take your men below for some hot grog and a bite, and rouse Mr Webster.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

The Captain went to the tube. “Slacken speed, Mr Dixon, and be very careful with your fires. Starboard your helm; bring her round.”

TheSwiftwent round with a steady swing, bringing the enemy’s light on her port bows, instead of over her starboard stern rails.

The men lingered awhile to see the manoeuvre finished, and then went below, satisfied there was to be a fight.

“Keep her on that course now,” said the Captain to the steersman.

“Mr Webster,” he continued, as that officer stepped briskly up and took a glance round, “see that everything is in readiness, and that the men take their positions without a word. Within an hour the fight will begin.”

“Begin, sir? You’ve been at it this past three hours, and I’ve been in and out of my bunk a dozen—times, while the men are all on the quiver.”

“We haven’t come to knocks yet. I’ll present my card in the morning with a fifty-pound rat-tat.”

Webster laughed gaily as he set about his duties, and presently the men gathered silently to their posts, some of them every now and again stealing to the sides to make out the whereabouts of the enemy and the meaning of the manoeuvre, which puzzled them, as one might gather from their whispered arguments.

TheSwiftdoubled back towards the eastern horizon, where the darkness was quickly melting into the grey of dawn, and a deep silence rested on the ship, and over the shining heave of waters. Slowly the enemy’s light was overhauled, then sank astern, but theSwiftkept on its way until a tint of pink appeared in the sky and the stars suddenly paled.

“The time has come,” said the Captain. “Are you all ready?”

“Ay, ay, sir!” came the answer in suppressed tones.

“Round with her, my man, on the port tack.”

TheSwiftrushed round, and there was a murmur of admiring criticism from the old tars as they now understood the meaning of the Captain’s manoeuvre.

“They are satisfied now,” said the Captain, grimly, to Frank. “They thought all along, I’ll be bound, that I could not fight this ship.”

“I confess, sir, I don’t understand your tactics.”

“Well, I suppose you don’t. The enemy’s fighting strength is evidently in her bow guns. So is ours. I have got the ’vantage of her by going into action on her beam. Mark me, before she can bear her bow guns on us she’ll be crippled. Full steam ahead!” he shouted, and the low craft rushed forward.

The whole horizon on the east was now bathed in light, and in a moment the blood-red disc of the sun flamed above the black line of the waters, while streamers of light shot into the sky. Straight ahead there rose a dark object. A shaft of golden light stretching across the waters struck full upon it, and there stood out in a glory of softest fire the tall masts and long black hull of the Brazilian ship. She was at rest, rising and falling gently; but there was a terrible awakening in store. Every minute brought her into clearer relief, though from the dark background beyond there was a blur about her deck, out of which, however, presently there emerged distinct objects—her boats, her bridge unoccupied, the gilt scroll under her stern, over which idly dropped the Brazilian flag; and last of all, the chases of her port broadside grimly projecting, with a glint of red sunlight on their smooth cylinders.

The two vessels were now distant about six hundred yards, and at last the careless lookout on the Brazilian ship saw something alarming astern in the fierce rush of the low grey craft. Some men dashed up the rigging to get a better view, and a small group gathered on the bridge.

“We’ll wake ’em up!” shouted the Captain, springing into the conning-tower and pressing a button, which brought up “The Ghost” from its bed.

The real action had begun; the night’s work had been child’s play. There was a terrific din as the long gun threw shot after shot, and in ten minutes a dense bank of smoke enveloped theSwift. The firing was suspended a minute.

The Captain stood in the conning-tower, his hands on the wheel, and his eyes fixed in a narrow slit under the steel roof. Giving a turn of the wheel to starboard, he brought the stem free of the smoke, and saw the enemy slowly gathering way, while men rushed about her decks in a state of terrible confusion at this sudden tempest of shells that had poured upon them.

Some damage had been done evidently, but principally to her top rigging. And now she spoke from her stern guns, but not allowing sufficiently for her height, the first stinging flight of shells went over the catcher.

“Stand by the six-pounders!” cried the Captain, his voice rising to a roar. “Depress your muzzle, Mr Webster! Fire!”

Again there was another tremendous fusillade, continuous and deafening, while the men’s eyes smarted from the sulphur in the smoke, and their throats grew dry and husky. For five minutes the rain of lead was kept up, and from the three guns one hundred projectiles tore into the sloop, plunged along the port side, and shattered her rigging. Lieutenant Webster devoted his second storm of fire at the stern guns, and the stanchions and bulwarks about them were ripped up, and the guns themselves dismounted.

The order to cease fire was again given, and the Captain made a point to starboard just as the sloop was swinging round to bring her port broadside to bear.

The ships were now but two hundred yards off, the sloop bearing off from the port quarter of the catcher in her attempt to come round and bring her bow guns to bear. Once she could do that she could blow theSwiftout of the water, but Captain Pardoe had foreseen the manoeuvre and was ready for it. Counting upon the narrow turning power of his boat, he swept on, and suddenly put the wheel hard to port, bringing the vessel round within her own length, and bringing the boats stern to stern. At the same moment he flashed the signal below to fire the stern torpedoes. Then he stepped out to watch the effect, and the men, with heaving chests and smoke-blackened faces, from which their eyes glared with the fever of battle, watched too. There was a cry from the deck of the sloop, as they saw the leap from the tubes of the two torpedoes, a hoarse cry from the Captain to the man at the wheel, a terrible pause, and then two lines of bubbles below the water marked the swift rush of the deadly tubes. One line, it was seen, would continue free of the ship, the other went straight for her stern, and a sailor, in a mad fit of rage, first discharged his rifle at the approaching torpedo, then plunged overboard with a wild yell. A moment later there was a muffled roar, a vast column of water was thrown up, followed by a rending and grinding noise. The stern of the sloop was raised, then settled down in the trough of a great sea raised by the explosion. The torpedo had reached its mark, and Captain Pardoe stood by to give what assistance he could.

There was the wildest consternation on board the sloop, and the rending noise continued; but though she lay helplessly on the water she showed no signs of sinking.

The men on board theSwiftset up a hoarse cheer, and shook each other by the hand.

“It’s twenty minutes since we went into action,” said Webster, wiping the blood from his brow. “Three cheers for our Captain, men!” and waving his hat, he led the hurrahs.

“For the love of God,” cried a voice in English from the sloop, “help us!”

“Strike your flag!” cried the Captain.

The gay flag came down, and the Captain brought theSwiftnearer. “What is the matter?”

“Your cursed torpedo has blown away our propeller, and the shaft—oh, Sancta Maria!—listen to it!—is breaking the ship.”

“Why don’t you shut off steam?”

“Our engineer is dead. Demonios! Don’t talk, but act.”

“I’ll send our engineer to you.”

“Quick, quick!”

Mr Dixon came up from the bowels of theSwift, where, without the stimulant of action, he had stood by his work, animating his men with a quiet courage, which was the finer because he stood in absolute darkness regarding the progress of the fight, and knew that at any moment he might be sent to the bottom a helpless victim in an iron prison. His face was white and streaming with perspiration, and at the first touch of the cold air he reeled with dizziness, but when told what was required of him, he prepared for his new task without a word. TheSwiftmoved gently under the tall sides of the sloop, and the engineer, with Webster, Hume, and six men, were quickly on board. Mr Dixon went at once to the engine-room, whence proceeded a truly infernal din.

“Where Is the Captain?” asked Webster of a dozen men round him.

A short, thick-set, bullet-headed man, with a neck like a bull, and moustaches that reached up to his ears, stepped forward.

“Your sword, Señor Juarez!”

“I must know to whom I am asked to surrender.”

“To the National flag,” said Webster haughtily.

“Carambo! that is an excellent jest. Is the flag broad enough to cover the ships of every nation? And why should I surrender my sword?” he asked, with a fierce scowl, while his officers drew near threateningly.

Webster stepped quickly to the bulwarks, and called to Captain Pardoe to stand away.

That officer went at once full speed astern, and lay-to a cable length off, with the men at their guns.

“You see?” said Webster.

The Brazilian Captain, with a terrible malediction, broke his sword over his knee.

“A thousand thunders!” he roared, while the black blood swelled in his temples, “to think I should have been beaten by that—that thing—and scarcely a boat’s crew hurt!”

“It is the fortune of war,” said Webster, looking around. “But while we talk the ship may be sinking for want of a little sailor-like care. Have you a spare sail, señor?”

The Brazilian Captain folded his arms and spat on the deck.

“You surly brute!” cried Webster. “Here, men, cut away the mizzen sail!”

In a trice the British sailors swarmed up to the mizzen yard and cast loose the sail, which came down with a thud, knocking a couple of yellow-faced sailors off their legs, whereat the tars up aloft laughed. At this a dozen of the enemy drew their knives and looked to their Captain for a word.

It was a ticklish moment, and Hume pulled out a revolver, which he instantly presented at Juarez.

“Good, my lad,” said Webster. “Shoot him down if he moves a foot. Do you understand, señor?”

Juarez glared like a wild beast, and a hoarse, unintelligible cry escaped from his thick lips, but he kept quiet, while Webster, without another look at the scowling group, quickly slipped the great sail over the side, and had it drawn round and up over the damaged stern.

In the meantime Mr Dixon, working down below, had stopped the engines and explored the shaft funnel, ascertaining the extent of the damage done by the shaft in its unchecked revolutions. He came on deck, wearied out, to be met by dark looks.

“What’s the meaning of this?” said he.

“The meaning is,” cried Webster, with a bitter look of contempt round, “that these cowardly hounds won’t lift a finger to help us, and I’m damned if my men will do another stroke to save them! Let the ship sink, and she is sinking fast.”

“And you’ll sink with us!” roared Juarez. “Down with them; slit their throats!”

There was a rush of men, and the little party were hemmed in.

A young officer bounded forward with drawn sword, and wheeling round, faced his men.

“Diavolo!” he hissed through his clenched teeth, “what devil’s game is this? You called to these gentlemen in your fear to help you, and now you would turn on them like base assassins. I tell you,” he cried passionately, “it shall not be!”

Webster and Hume, with their blue eyes flashing, ranged up on either side of their unexpected friend, while the British tars stood with their cutlasses ready.

Captain Pardoe, seeing something amiss, drew near. “Do you hear,” he shouted, “if you harm my men I’ll let go a torpedo.”

The young officer repeated the message, and the men whispered among themselves, then threw down their arms.

Juarez shot a venomous look at his officer, and placed his foot upon a knife, which, presently, he drew toward him.

Webster thanked the gallant foe for his assistance, and assured him that the sloop would keep afloat until they reached Madeira. He then turned to the side to speak to Captain Pardoe, while Frank Hume walked aft to see what damage had been wrought by the fire of the catcher.

There was a cry, and they turned to see the young officer fall, struck to the heart by the vengeful Captain. The next instant Juarez himself was cut to the deck by a slashing blow from a cutlass.

At this act of black treachery the small boarding party were ready to make a furious rush, but the sloop’s officers and men looked on themselves appalled, while a young fellow, quite a boy, flung himself on the officer’s body in a passion of grief, then suddenly springing up, drew his knife and advanced towards Juarez.

“Enough!” said Webster sternly.

“Kill the black-hearted dog!” screamed the Brazilian sailors, giving vent to their hate for their brutal commander, which no doubt had been long pent up.

“I see,” said Webster, with a grim smile; “we must get this fellow on board to save him from his friends.”

He signalled to theSwift, and when she came alongside, Juarez, who still breathed heavily, was lowered to her deck.

“What’s to be done with the sloop, sir?”

“Oh, leave her, if she can float, and think ourselves lucky to be free of a gang of prisoners.”

“She can reach Madeira by means of her sails.”

“Take a look round, then, and come aboard.”

Webster and Hume went aft, where all the damage done by theSwift’sguns had taken place, and there they found the bulwarks smashed to splinters, the two guns overturned, and the deck wet with blood from a dozen dead.

With a last word of advice to the gloomy and silent officers of the sloop, Webster stepped overboard, and very soon theSwiftwent on her way.

Chapter Eleven.A Painful Scene.The stricken sloop lay like a log on the ocean as theSwiftstretched along into the Atlantic. In less than half an hour she had been struck down, maimed, and humbled by an enemy which she had treated with contempt.“Why didn’t you sink her?” said Commins softly, coming to the side of Captain Pardoe, who stood with a dull flush in his face, fixedly regarding the labouring sloop. “You are fighting for the National Government. Why didn’t you sink her?”Pardoe turned and regarded the man at his side under his brows for a moment. “What a devil you are, Commins!”“Am I really?” remarked Commins imperturbably; “but, however flattering to my sagacity, that is scarcely an answer to my question. You have committed a blunder, Pardoe, and if the authorities at Rio were informed of it they might—I’m not saying they would, mind you—but they might court-martial you.”“Court-martial me for smashing an enemy’s ship? You’re a fool, Commins!”“Pardon me, but you have not smashed the enemy. There he goes leisurely on his way back to port after you had him in your power, and if either of us is to be called a fool I am inclined to think you are entitled to that honour. Take my advice: go back and sink that ship.”“Do you mean that?”“Certainly, in your own interests. The Brazilian Admiral would be the last man to suppose you had let the enemy escape from motives of humanity. And, then, you saved the life of that fiend, Juarez.”“Juarez is my prisoner.”“Yes, truly; but, observe how absurd your case would be when you say to the Admiral: ‘I let the warship escape, but I have brought you her Captain, who would have been assassinated by his own crew.’”“I see you have already placed me on my trial,” said Pardoe dryly. “I presume you wish me to murder Juarez as well as to sink the ship?”“You have a brutal way with you, Pardoe, as befits, no doubt, a brave sailor; but it jars. As for Juarez, it may give our friends some pleasure to dispose of him at Rio, though his presence on board will cause me a feeling of nausea; but it is necessary that you should do your work thoroughly, and for your safety, and the success of our mission, you must destroy that ship.”“I must!” said the Captain, with a dark look.“Well, there is no compulsion; but that is my opinion, and the opinion of Miss Laura de Anstrade.”“You lie!”Commins grew white to the lips, and his gloved fingers, resting on the bridge rail, trembled, but recovering himself, he said: “I will bring her here, and you shall receive the orders from her own lips,” then left the bridge.Captain Pardoe flung himself round, took a hasty turn up and down the cramped bridge, then, with a stern and angry visage, faced Miss Anstrade.She came swiftly, with a rustling of skirts, and a faint perfume that seemed strangely out of place, as much out of place as would be the inhuman order from her woman’s lips to destroy a helpless ship. Her large eyes glared with a feverish light, her breast heaved, and her hands were clutched in a sort of hysterical passion.“Captain Pardoe,” she cried, in a thin, unnatural voice, “why have you let that ship escape?”“Because, madam, I had not men enough to work her, and she would never have reached Rio.”“No; but she can reach the bottom.”“Good God!” he muttered, his face turning an ashen grey, “Miss Laura, you cannot mean that?”“Yes; but I do!” she said, with a gasp.“Then,” he said fiercely, “you must put someone else in command.”“Oh, no, no!” she cried, “I never—”“Be firm,” whispered Commins; “think how your case will be strengthened. If you can say you have destroyed one of the enemy’s ships. Remember your brother!”Captain Pardoe noticed the action, and, pointing to Commins, he said bitterly: “Appoint that man your Captain, madam; he alone is capable of such an act, and perhaps Juarez would assist him.”“It is policy,” whispered Commins.The name of Juarez had a strange effect on the girl. She drew herself up, and in a hard voice called Lieutenant Webster.He, seeing something unusual occurring, as, indeed, had all those on the main-deck, had drawn near.“At your service, madam,” he said, with a hasty look at Captain Pardee’s dark face.“I wish to appoint you Captain, Mr Webster.”“Thank you, madam!”Commins smiled as Pardoe threw his head up with a snort of indignant surprise.“Mr Pardoe has refused to obey orders. I beg your pardon, what were you about to say?”“I don’t think I wish to say anything, madam, and I’d rather not hear anything more;” saying which, Webster, with a distressed look on his frank face, stepped by, and stood beside Captain Pardoe.“Ah!” cried Miss Anstrade, “you desert me for him. Let it be so. I would rather know at once whom I may trust.” The weakness and hesitation which at first she had shown disappeared, giving place to a feeling of wounded pride. She drew herself up, and regarded the two officers scornfully, forgetting, as only an angry woman can, the services they had already performed.“I will have you placed on board yonder ship with that defeated crew, and perhaps then, when they turn their fury on you, you will repent your ingratitude. Once before I had to turn to these gallant sailors in order to shame you into doing your duty, and now, with confidence, I will appeal to them once more.” Her voice rang out clear and loud, and, charmed herself by the sound, she dwelt on her words. The men edged up, looking at the group on the bridge; and, if she had not been carried away by the confidence of her tone, she would have seen that their aspect was not friendly to her or to the man at her side. Hot, and most of them bleeding from a fight into which they had been led with courage and skill by their officers, it was not to be thought that they would, on the bidding of a woman, turn their backs upon their leaders. Commins was quick to note their bearing, and so was Hume, who stood by, amazed at the scene.As she stood there with a proud smile on her lips, Frank swung himself up, unceremoniously shouldered Commins away, and stood by her side.“Men,” he said, “it is a fine custom after a fight for the Captain to thank his officers and men, and one that should be kept up by us. This lady is our commander, and she wishes to thank you all for the splendid courage with which you have fought at this engagement against a foe of double our strength.”“Sir,” she said, recovering from the shock of surprise, “what is the meaning of this insolence?”“For Heaven’s sake,” whispered Commins, “let him speak. Don’t you see the men side with them?”She flashed a startled look over the upturned faces, then, with a motion of her hand, signified to Frank to continue.“Say a word to them, madam, yourself.”“Do you command me?” she asked haughtily.“No, madam, I implore.”With a terrible look at Commins she went forward, and with a smiling face, though her hands were clenched, she thanked them.The men touched their caps, but they lingered, casting puzzled glances at the Captain and Lieutenant.“If so please you, mam,” said the big Quartermaster in deep tones, “we’d like to know what’s been said by way of thanks to the Captain for the handsome way he took the ship into action, and to the Lieutenant for the way he worked ‘The Ghost’ Isn’t it so, mates?”There was a deep growl of assent.“My men,” said the Captain, in a deep bass that had a thrilling touch of emotion in it, “I am pleased with you, and I think you are satisfied with me and with the ship. And all of us are proud of the young lady, who, trusting herself fully in our keeping, has so bravely shared our dangers.”“Three cheers for the lady,” sang out Dick the Owl; and “God bless her!” chimed in the Quartermaster.The ship rang again to the shouts of the men, and Commins slipped below.Miss Laura coloured, then grew white, but the Captain was too experienced a man to show his triumph, though he could not forbear one shot:“If you will allow me, madam, I will go to my cabin, for I have been on the bridge all night.”“All night! you are cruel to remind me of it, Captain.”“Am I Captain again, then?”“Go to your room, sir,” she said, with a frown, “and consider yourself under arrest till eight bells. Now, Mr Webster,” she continued, with a sudden change of manner, “you will show me over the ship, and explain to me all about the action. I see you are wounded.”“Merely a scratch, madam, from a flying link from the anchor chain.”He led the way down, and Hume and the Captain, lingering on the bridge, saw her chatting with the men, and examining the damage done aft, where a flight of missiles had struck the deck.“That was a timely speech of yours, Hume,” said the Captain, “and saved us from an awkward fix, for had the men once got the notion that they had done me an obligation, there would have been an end to discipline, tried men as they are. I am not satisfied that we have a plain course before us, for we have to reckon with that man Commins, and the whims of a young lady.”“She appears to be quite reconciled now,” remarked Hume.“Maybe, and I hope so, but a woman can sail under false colours and dummy portholes without a sign of her real feelings. See the way she’s smoothing down Black Henderson. I shouldn’t wonder if she’s scheming to gain the men over in preparation for the next mad-brained jamboree.”“What relation does Mr Commins hold to her?”“That is no business of ours,” said the Captain gruffly, “and harkee, my lad, remember that you are sailing under her orders, and that you have to stand by her, and not me.” With that he swung down below, leaving Frank to his own reflections, which were not of the brightest. He noticed that Miss Anstrade had ignored his presence, and wondered whether she was displeased at his interference, then dwelt on the influence which Mr Commins undoubtedly exercised over her, and finally blamed himself for having committed himself to this mad venture. His thoughts went back to his uncle, and to the promise which he had given to search for that impossible Golden Rock, and he asked himself if he would not have been happier had he started on that forlorn enterprise; but, even as he thought, his mental image of that imaginary rock faded away before the visible presence of the wayward, passionate girl whose beauty had already beguiled him.She had parted from Webster, who was busy with the men, and came slowly picking her way over the litter of coal scattered from the bags by a shell which had ripped up the whole row on the port side, her one hand stretched gracefully to its full length at her side to hold up her skirts, the other at her throat holding a black mantilla which framed her face. Passing up to the bridge, she leant forward with her elbows on the rails, the wide lace on her sleeves falling back and disclosing shapely arms, and, with her chin in her hands, looked dreamily over the grey sea to a faint blur which marked the toiling sloop. She had not noticed him by so much as a glance, and, accepting this as a hint, he put the length of the bridge between him and her.“Mr Hume.”He turned, but she was still absorbed in watching the sloop.“Must I call twice?” she said in her low, rich tones; and he was by her side.“I feared I had offended you by my interference.”“And would my displeasure disturb you?” she asked, reclining her head until she could look at him, and so keeping it.Frank thought of Captain Pardoe, and wondered if she could be acting a part.“Why do you look at me so? Tell me, what do you think of me?”“I think you are very beautiful,” he said daringly, carried away by her beauty, and forgetting the part she had just played.“Don’t. This is no ball-room interlude, and such a vapid compliment is out of place here. Be frank. Come, tell me.” She nestled her face more comfortably in her supporting palm, and looked at him with a faint smile that parted her lips.“Don’t,” he murmured, repeating her word; “I am only human.”“And I am not. Is that it? Well, perhaps you are right.”“I did not say so. What I meant was, that if you look at me so—”“Spare me! I detest explanations. Do you see that ship?” she turned her face to the labouring sloop. “It carries many souls—men who have friends waiting for them in some far-off hacienda, gleaming white in the bright sun, wives, mothers, and others as dear, who would grieve were they lost. You know, I had it in my head to sink that ship and all on board. What do you think of me? I would like to know.”“It was a horrible fancy,” he said a little sternly; “but I do not believe you meant to carry it out.”“Ah! you do not know me,” she whispered, with a shudder; “I am sometimes afraid of myself.”“You brood too much over your sorrows. Why not come up here more often and talk with us?” he said, with a jealous thought of Commins.“That is very good of you,” she answered demurely, with a swift change of expression; “and I appreciate the invitation all the more because of the evident implication that I alone am to benefit from it.”“You misunderstand me,” he said hastily; “what I meant—”“Yes, yes; how dull you are, Mr Hume!”“I am sorry you should think so, madam,” he answered stiffly.“Now go off in a pet, and leave me to my own thoughts, which, of course, are very pleasant company for a lonely girl among a lot of morose and fiery men, who cannot see that the strain upon her is almost too much.” She said this with a smile, but Hume noticed that the lips trembled while they smiled, and that in the eyes there was a worn, almost wild, look.“Take my arm, Miss Laura,” he said gently. “Let me tell you my story; it may interest you.”She took his arm with almost a convulsive grasp, and for a moment she bent her head; then with a soft and womanly look she asked him to talk and not to heed her silence. So they paced up and down, six paces one way, six another, and were necessarily thrown together by the narrowness of the passage. He talked of his uncle, the tough old hunter, of the simple life he led, of his sacrifice and quiet death, and a sweeter look stole into her face.“And so,” she said, “you have put aside the quest entrusted to you by that good old man and thrown in your lot with me? I thank you, but you must find the Golden Rock.”“If it is there,” he said, smiling at her eagerness.“Oh, it exists; I am sure of it. I can see the gleam of it now;” and she shaded her eyes with her hand.“But it is not on the sea,” he said laughingly.“I am looking beyond the sea, among your African mountains, to a flame that glows under the rays of the morning sun, and there is a ring of red around the flame. Ah! you will encounter many dangers.”“What will it matter,” he said, “since I am alone in the world?”“It may matter,” she whispered, and then withdrew her arm, and hastily quitted the bridge, after one anxious look at the sloop, and a murmured prayer that it would safely reach port.

The stricken sloop lay like a log on the ocean as theSwiftstretched along into the Atlantic. In less than half an hour she had been struck down, maimed, and humbled by an enemy which she had treated with contempt.

“Why didn’t you sink her?” said Commins softly, coming to the side of Captain Pardoe, who stood with a dull flush in his face, fixedly regarding the labouring sloop. “You are fighting for the National Government. Why didn’t you sink her?”

Pardoe turned and regarded the man at his side under his brows for a moment. “What a devil you are, Commins!”

“Am I really?” remarked Commins imperturbably; “but, however flattering to my sagacity, that is scarcely an answer to my question. You have committed a blunder, Pardoe, and if the authorities at Rio were informed of it they might—I’m not saying they would, mind you—but they might court-martial you.”

“Court-martial me for smashing an enemy’s ship? You’re a fool, Commins!”

“Pardon me, but you have not smashed the enemy. There he goes leisurely on his way back to port after you had him in your power, and if either of us is to be called a fool I am inclined to think you are entitled to that honour. Take my advice: go back and sink that ship.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Certainly, in your own interests. The Brazilian Admiral would be the last man to suppose you had let the enemy escape from motives of humanity. And, then, you saved the life of that fiend, Juarez.”

“Juarez is my prisoner.”

“Yes, truly; but, observe how absurd your case would be when you say to the Admiral: ‘I let the warship escape, but I have brought you her Captain, who would have been assassinated by his own crew.’”

“I see you have already placed me on my trial,” said Pardoe dryly. “I presume you wish me to murder Juarez as well as to sink the ship?”

“You have a brutal way with you, Pardoe, as befits, no doubt, a brave sailor; but it jars. As for Juarez, it may give our friends some pleasure to dispose of him at Rio, though his presence on board will cause me a feeling of nausea; but it is necessary that you should do your work thoroughly, and for your safety, and the success of our mission, you must destroy that ship.”

“I must!” said the Captain, with a dark look.

“Well, there is no compulsion; but that is my opinion, and the opinion of Miss Laura de Anstrade.”

“You lie!”

Commins grew white to the lips, and his gloved fingers, resting on the bridge rail, trembled, but recovering himself, he said: “I will bring her here, and you shall receive the orders from her own lips,” then left the bridge.

Captain Pardoe flung himself round, took a hasty turn up and down the cramped bridge, then, with a stern and angry visage, faced Miss Anstrade.

She came swiftly, with a rustling of skirts, and a faint perfume that seemed strangely out of place, as much out of place as would be the inhuman order from her woman’s lips to destroy a helpless ship. Her large eyes glared with a feverish light, her breast heaved, and her hands were clutched in a sort of hysterical passion.

“Captain Pardoe,” she cried, in a thin, unnatural voice, “why have you let that ship escape?”

“Because, madam, I had not men enough to work her, and she would never have reached Rio.”

“No; but she can reach the bottom.”

“Good God!” he muttered, his face turning an ashen grey, “Miss Laura, you cannot mean that?”

“Yes; but I do!” she said, with a gasp.

“Then,” he said fiercely, “you must put someone else in command.”

“Oh, no, no!” she cried, “I never—”

“Be firm,” whispered Commins; “think how your case will be strengthened. If you can say you have destroyed one of the enemy’s ships. Remember your brother!”

Captain Pardoe noticed the action, and, pointing to Commins, he said bitterly: “Appoint that man your Captain, madam; he alone is capable of such an act, and perhaps Juarez would assist him.”

“It is policy,” whispered Commins.

The name of Juarez had a strange effect on the girl. She drew herself up, and in a hard voice called Lieutenant Webster.

He, seeing something unusual occurring, as, indeed, had all those on the main-deck, had drawn near.

“At your service, madam,” he said, with a hasty look at Captain Pardee’s dark face.

“I wish to appoint you Captain, Mr Webster.”

“Thank you, madam!”

Commins smiled as Pardoe threw his head up with a snort of indignant surprise.

“Mr Pardoe has refused to obey orders. I beg your pardon, what were you about to say?”

“I don’t think I wish to say anything, madam, and I’d rather not hear anything more;” saying which, Webster, with a distressed look on his frank face, stepped by, and stood beside Captain Pardoe.

“Ah!” cried Miss Anstrade, “you desert me for him. Let it be so. I would rather know at once whom I may trust.” The weakness and hesitation which at first she had shown disappeared, giving place to a feeling of wounded pride. She drew herself up, and regarded the two officers scornfully, forgetting, as only an angry woman can, the services they had already performed.

“I will have you placed on board yonder ship with that defeated crew, and perhaps then, when they turn their fury on you, you will repent your ingratitude. Once before I had to turn to these gallant sailors in order to shame you into doing your duty, and now, with confidence, I will appeal to them once more.” Her voice rang out clear and loud, and, charmed herself by the sound, she dwelt on her words. The men edged up, looking at the group on the bridge; and, if she had not been carried away by the confidence of her tone, she would have seen that their aspect was not friendly to her or to the man at her side. Hot, and most of them bleeding from a fight into which they had been led with courage and skill by their officers, it was not to be thought that they would, on the bidding of a woman, turn their backs upon their leaders. Commins was quick to note their bearing, and so was Hume, who stood by, amazed at the scene.

As she stood there with a proud smile on her lips, Frank swung himself up, unceremoniously shouldered Commins away, and stood by her side.

“Men,” he said, “it is a fine custom after a fight for the Captain to thank his officers and men, and one that should be kept up by us. This lady is our commander, and she wishes to thank you all for the splendid courage with which you have fought at this engagement against a foe of double our strength.”

“Sir,” she said, recovering from the shock of surprise, “what is the meaning of this insolence?”

“For Heaven’s sake,” whispered Commins, “let him speak. Don’t you see the men side with them?”

She flashed a startled look over the upturned faces, then, with a motion of her hand, signified to Frank to continue.

“Say a word to them, madam, yourself.”

“Do you command me?” she asked haughtily.

“No, madam, I implore.”

With a terrible look at Commins she went forward, and with a smiling face, though her hands were clenched, she thanked them.

The men touched their caps, but they lingered, casting puzzled glances at the Captain and Lieutenant.

“If so please you, mam,” said the big Quartermaster in deep tones, “we’d like to know what’s been said by way of thanks to the Captain for the handsome way he took the ship into action, and to the Lieutenant for the way he worked ‘The Ghost’ Isn’t it so, mates?”

There was a deep growl of assent.

“My men,” said the Captain, in a deep bass that had a thrilling touch of emotion in it, “I am pleased with you, and I think you are satisfied with me and with the ship. And all of us are proud of the young lady, who, trusting herself fully in our keeping, has so bravely shared our dangers.”

“Three cheers for the lady,” sang out Dick the Owl; and “God bless her!” chimed in the Quartermaster.

The ship rang again to the shouts of the men, and Commins slipped below.

Miss Laura coloured, then grew white, but the Captain was too experienced a man to show his triumph, though he could not forbear one shot:

“If you will allow me, madam, I will go to my cabin, for I have been on the bridge all night.”

“All night! you are cruel to remind me of it, Captain.”

“Am I Captain again, then?”

“Go to your room, sir,” she said, with a frown, “and consider yourself under arrest till eight bells. Now, Mr Webster,” she continued, with a sudden change of manner, “you will show me over the ship, and explain to me all about the action. I see you are wounded.”

“Merely a scratch, madam, from a flying link from the anchor chain.”

He led the way down, and Hume and the Captain, lingering on the bridge, saw her chatting with the men, and examining the damage done aft, where a flight of missiles had struck the deck.

“That was a timely speech of yours, Hume,” said the Captain, “and saved us from an awkward fix, for had the men once got the notion that they had done me an obligation, there would have been an end to discipline, tried men as they are. I am not satisfied that we have a plain course before us, for we have to reckon with that man Commins, and the whims of a young lady.”

“She appears to be quite reconciled now,” remarked Hume.

“Maybe, and I hope so, but a woman can sail under false colours and dummy portholes without a sign of her real feelings. See the way she’s smoothing down Black Henderson. I shouldn’t wonder if she’s scheming to gain the men over in preparation for the next mad-brained jamboree.”

“What relation does Mr Commins hold to her?”

“That is no business of ours,” said the Captain gruffly, “and harkee, my lad, remember that you are sailing under her orders, and that you have to stand by her, and not me.” With that he swung down below, leaving Frank to his own reflections, which were not of the brightest. He noticed that Miss Anstrade had ignored his presence, and wondered whether she was displeased at his interference, then dwelt on the influence which Mr Commins undoubtedly exercised over her, and finally blamed himself for having committed himself to this mad venture. His thoughts went back to his uncle, and to the promise which he had given to search for that impossible Golden Rock, and he asked himself if he would not have been happier had he started on that forlorn enterprise; but, even as he thought, his mental image of that imaginary rock faded away before the visible presence of the wayward, passionate girl whose beauty had already beguiled him.

She had parted from Webster, who was busy with the men, and came slowly picking her way over the litter of coal scattered from the bags by a shell which had ripped up the whole row on the port side, her one hand stretched gracefully to its full length at her side to hold up her skirts, the other at her throat holding a black mantilla which framed her face. Passing up to the bridge, she leant forward with her elbows on the rails, the wide lace on her sleeves falling back and disclosing shapely arms, and, with her chin in her hands, looked dreamily over the grey sea to a faint blur which marked the toiling sloop. She had not noticed him by so much as a glance, and, accepting this as a hint, he put the length of the bridge between him and her.

“Mr Hume.”

He turned, but she was still absorbed in watching the sloop.

“Must I call twice?” she said in her low, rich tones; and he was by her side.

“I feared I had offended you by my interference.”

“And would my displeasure disturb you?” she asked, reclining her head until she could look at him, and so keeping it.

Frank thought of Captain Pardoe, and wondered if she could be acting a part.

“Why do you look at me so? Tell me, what do you think of me?”

“I think you are very beautiful,” he said daringly, carried away by her beauty, and forgetting the part she had just played.

“Don’t. This is no ball-room interlude, and such a vapid compliment is out of place here. Be frank. Come, tell me.” She nestled her face more comfortably in her supporting palm, and looked at him with a faint smile that parted her lips.

“Don’t,” he murmured, repeating her word; “I am only human.”

“And I am not. Is that it? Well, perhaps you are right.”

“I did not say so. What I meant was, that if you look at me so—”

“Spare me! I detest explanations. Do you see that ship?” she turned her face to the labouring sloop. “It carries many souls—men who have friends waiting for them in some far-off hacienda, gleaming white in the bright sun, wives, mothers, and others as dear, who would grieve were they lost. You know, I had it in my head to sink that ship and all on board. What do you think of me? I would like to know.”

“It was a horrible fancy,” he said a little sternly; “but I do not believe you meant to carry it out.”

“Ah! you do not know me,” she whispered, with a shudder; “I am sometimes afraid of myself.”

“You brood too much over your sorrows. Why not come up here more often and talk with us?” he said, with a jealous thought of Commins.

“That is very good of you,” she answered demurely, with a swift change of expression; “and I appreciate the invitation all the more because of the evident implication that I alone am to benefit from it.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said hastily; “what I meant—”

“Yes, yes; how dull you are, Mr Hume!”

“I am sorry you should think so, madam,” he answered stiffly.

“Now go off in a pet, and leave me to my own thoughts, which, of course, are very pleasant company for a lonely girl among a lot of morose and fiery men, who cannot see that the strain upon her is almost too much.” She said this with a smile, but Hume noticed that the lips trembled while they smiled, and that in the eyes there was a worn, almost wild, look.

“Take my arm, Miss Laura,” he said gently. “Let me tell you my story; it may interest you.”

She took his arm with almost a convulsive grasp, and for a moment she bent her head; then with a soft and womanly look she asked him to talk and not to heed her silence. So they paced up and down, six paces one way, six another, and were necessarily thrown together by the narrowness of the passage. He talked of his uncle, the tough old hunter, of the simple life he led, of his sacrifice and quiet death, and a sweeter look stole into her face.

“And so,” she said, “you have put aside the quest entrusted to you by that good old man and thrown in your lot with me? I thank you, but you must find the Golden Rock.”

“If it is there,” he said, smiling at her eagerness.

“Oh, it exists; I am sure of it. I can see the gleam of it now;” and she shaded her eyes with her hand.

“But it is not on the sea,” he said laughingly.

“I am looking beyond the sea, among your African mountains, to a flame that glows under the rays of the morning sun, and there is a ring of red around the flame. Ah! you will encounter many dangers.”

“What will it matter,” he said, “since I am alone in the world?”

“It may matter,” she whispered, and then withdrew her arm, and hastily quitted the bridge, after one anxious look at the sloop, and a murmured prayer that it would safely reach port.

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