Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Eighteen.The Fugitives make good their Escape.Having partaken of as much of the fruit as he deemed prudent, George at once betook himself to the task of climbing the precipice, and was agreeably surprised at the rapidity and ease with which he accomplished the ascent. Now that he was unencumbered with Walford’s weight, and was free from the horrible dread which had before haunted him—that a false step on Tom’s part might precipitate all hands to the bottom—his confidence in his own powers enabled him to coolly approach and successfully surmount obstacles which, under less favourable conditions, he would have dreaded to face, and in a few minutes he was within a foot or two of the top.Here he deemed it prudent to pause for a moment and survey the path by which he had ascended, so that, in the event of danger, he might be able to effect a rapid retreat. The glance downward which he permitted himself to take, though only momentary, brought on again, though happily only in a mitigated degree, the same feeling of vertigo and nausea from which he had before suffered; and he was obliged to close his eyes for a short time, clinging convulsively to the rock meanwhile, to avoid falling headlong to the bottom.Having at length once more recovered his steadiness, he rose cautiously higher and higher, until his head was level with the top edge of the precipice, and then he ventured to raise his head rapidly, cast a flying glance round, and dip it again. But the latter precaution was needless; the ground still sloped upward, so that he could see for a distance of some forty yards only, but all the visible space was perfectly clear; there was no human eye to detect his presence there. Once more raising his head, and this time taking a more leisurely and deliberate glance round, to make assurance doubly sure, he proceeded to make his way up over the edge on to the comparatively level ground at the top. This was a task demanding the utmost caution, for a depth of some eighteen inches of light soil crowned the rock, thickly covered with long rank grass, which, owing to the lightness of the soil, afforded but a very precarious and uncertain hold. The soil itself, too, crumbled away immediately beneath his touch, so that at the very top of the precipice he was unable to find anything to which he could safely hold. For a short time it almost seemed as if these apparently trifling obstacles were about to baffle him altogether, and it was not until he had actually laid bare the rock immediately in front of him, as far as his arm could reach, that he accomplished his object, and stood safely on the top of the cliff.He now threw himself flat on the ground in the long grass, thus effectually concealing himself from the view of any chance passer-by, and crawled to the crest of the hill, where he again peered cautiously about him. The ground, from the spot whereon he knelt, declined pretty steeply to the sea, only a quarter of a mile distant; slightly to his right there lay a valley, with a tiny river flowing through it into the sea; and on either bank of this stream there stood two or three crazy wattle-huts, scarcely worthy the name of human habitations, with a net or two spread behind them on poles in the sun to dry. Three or four fishing-canoes and a boat—a ship’s boat, which looked as though it had been picked up derelict—were moored in the stream; but human beings, there were none visible. In line with the river, commencing at a distance of about two miles from the shore, and extending right out to the horizon, there lay a group of islets, some forty or more in number; and far away beyond them, lying like a thin grey cloud of haze on the water, he could see the Isle of Pines.“So far, so good,” thought George. The spot was evidently a lonely one, inhabited by a few fishermen only; there was no sign of any watch being maintained on the chance of the runaways putting in an appearance, so the chase had doubtless by this time been abandoned as hopeless; there was a capital boat—which, in his urgent necessity, he felt he need not scruple to appropriate—lying in the stream below, and everything promised favourably for a successful escape from the island.But though the scene below looked so quiet and deserted, and though the boat lay there so temptingly within sight, Leicester felt that the evening would be the most suitable time for making their final effort; they were in no immediate hurry now, and it was scarcely worth while to risk detection by putting off in broad daylight. Besides, the sea-breeze was blowing half a gale, and in their exhausted condition they would scarcely be able to drive the boat ahead against it; whilst, by waiting until sundown, they would have it calm to start with, and the breeze, when it came, would be off the land and in their favour.Thus arguing the matter with himself, he rose to his feet, and sauntered leisurely back to the cliff-edge on his return journey.He was surprised and greatly disconcerted now to discover how easy it was to miss the spot at which he had made his ascent. The strong breeze, sweeping over the grass, had obliterated every trace of his recent passage through it, but he confidently walked in what he believed to be the right direction—only to find himself mistaken. The bare patch of rock which he had cleared to facilitate his passage over the edge was of course, when once found, an unmistakable landmark; but he was quite five minutes walking to and fro on the cliff-edge before he hit upon it, and quite long enough to have insured his capture had he been surprised and closely pursued.Having at last found it, however, he forthwith began his descent; and here again he was disagreeably reminded of the much greater difficulty which is experienced in thedescentthan in theascentof a cliff. His difficulties began with his first attempt to lower himself over the cliff-edge; and, notwithstanding his utmost care, he several times found himself in positions of the most appalling peril. He, however, got down safely to the cavern at last, and, after detailing to Tom the result of his observations, threw himself down on the rocky floor, to recover in sleep, if possible, the strength and nerve necessary for their final ascent.When George awoke, the sun was within about an hour of setting. There was, therefore, time for him to go out and secure for his companions and himself another meal of the wild raspberries, which he accordingly did.The fugitives had all their preparations complete in good time, and, when everything was quite ready, Leicester went out and stood at the entrance to the fissure, watching the shadows creep gradually higher and higher up the eastern side of the ravine as the sun declined toward the horizon. At length the last golden gleam vanished, the entire landscape assumed a hue of rich purple-grey, rapidly deepening in tone as the darkness of the tropical night settled swiftly down; and the supreme moment had arrived.Returning at once to the interior of the cave, George briefly announced that it was time to start; Walford, already securely lashed in his hammock, was at once hoisted up between George and Tom as before, and, issuing from the mouth of the fissure, the fugitives forthwith began the last and most perilous part of the ascent.They had scarcely risen a couple of yards when rapid hoof-beats were heard in the valley below, and, pausing for a moment to glance down, George saw a mounted figure galloping rapidly up the valley. He recognised it at once as one of their former pursuers, and saw in a moment how completely these pertinacious man-hunters had outwitted him. It immediately became clear to him that, failing to pick up the trail at the top of the precipice, these fellows had jumped to the conclusion that, improbable as it might seem, their prey must still be lurking hidden somewhere on the face of the precipice, and, doubtless during the previous night, the individual just seen had returned, and, secreting himself among the bushes below, had maintained an untiring watch on the face of the cliff. There could be no doubt that he had seen George’s ascent of the cliff that morning, and, observing him to be alone, had rightly concluded that the journey up the cliff had been made for the purpose of a reconnaissance, and had therefore remainedperdu, satisfied that before long his patience would be rewarded, as it had been, by witnessing the attempted flight of the whole party.These reflections flashed like lightning through George’s brain, and helped him to an instant decision.“Wemustgo onnow!” he exclaimed to Tom. “They have discovered our hiding-place, and if we were to return to it, they would simply blockade the top and bottom of the precipice, knowing that, sooner or later, we must inevitably fall into their hands; and, in addition to that, they would spread the information of our position all over the country, and perhaps offer a reward for our capture, in which case we should have perhaps a hundred watching for us instead of half-a-dozen. We have a chance yet; for it will take them fully twenty minutes to ride round, by which time, if we are fortunate, we can reach the boat. Now, Tom, my lad, do your utmost; in twenty minutes we shall either have won our freedom or relapsed into slavery for ever.”Not another word was now said by either of them until that awful climb was over and they had, after countless hair-breadth escapes, safely reached the top of the cliff. When at last they once more stood on comparatively level ground, they felt as though their limbs had no strength to carry them another yard upon their way, so exhausting had been the superhuman efforts which they had put forth. But there was no pause—no rest for them yet; onward they must still press at their topmost speed, or all that they had hitherto endured would be in vain. The short journey from the top of the precipice to the summit of the rising ground was a cruel one; the slope, gentle though it was, telling upon them terribly as they staggered forward over the long slippery grass, panting, breathless, staggering and stumbling at every step, and dreading every moment to hear the triumphant shout announcing the arrival of their pursuers upon the scene.But, so far, save that of their own laboured breathing, not a sound of any kind broke in upon the deep stillness of the evening hour; and, when at last they surmounted the crest of the hill, the scene below was one of peaceful solitude.“Now one more—onesupremeeffort, Tom, and in five minutes we shall be free,” gasped George. “Muster all your courage and resolution, and let us make a run for it. Can you do it?”“Ay, ay, sir, I’ll try,” was the scarcely articulate reply, and without more ado they set off down the slope at a run.A run? Well, yes, it was a run, if it was anything at all; but such a run! Their limbs felt like lead, and Walford’s weight seemed to them enough to drag them down to the very centre of the earth. Every individual blade of grass seemed to be invested with the toughness of a hempen cable, and to trail directly across their path for the express purpose of retarding their progress and tripping them up. Their breath was gone; their mouths were open and gasping; their hearts were beating like sledge-hammers against their ribs, and pumping the blood in a great red-hot tide up into their heads; their brains reeled; their sight began to fail them; and what little of the scene was still perceptible to their disordered vision was apparently whirling in a mad dance up and down, round and round them, until they could not tell whether they were going right or wrong.Yet on they still staggered and stumbled, first one, then the other, falling prone to the earth, but up again in an instant, and on once more.At last they were at the base of the hill; another half-a-dozen yards, and they would be beside the stream; another twenty, and they would be in the boat. Hark! what sound is that? The dull thud of horses’ hoofs upon the turf! With what headlong speed the riders are pressing forward! And—ha! there is the exultant shout which tells that the prey is in sight.“Thank God, there are no dogs with them,” thinks George. “Are there not?” Then what means that deep, sonorous baying sound which breaks with such startling distinctness on his frenzied ear? “On! on! for the love of God, press on!” gasps George; and with something almost like renewed effort the fugitives once more spring forward.Hark! now you can hear the deep panting of those hell-hounds as they lunge forward at a gallop, silent now that their prey is in sight, their flaming eyes fixed upon the flying men in front of them, and their jaws champing in horrible anticipation.One more bound, and the boat is reached. Poor Walford is tumbled unceremoniously into her; George and Tom follow, the latter wrenching from the foetid mud the stake to which the rotting painter is attached, whilst the former, with a last desperate effort, sends the crazy craft into the middle of the stream. As he rolls in over the gunwale a heavy splash is heard, and some cumbrous body scurries from the slimy bank into the water, whilst at the same moment the foremost hound, a magnificent creature, as big and as lithe as a panther, springs boldly after the receding boat. Healmostreaches her, not quite, his front paws catch upon the gunwale, but the rest of his body falls short and drops into the water. A thrust from one of the oars sends him clear of the boat, and, with a baffled howl, he turns and swims for the shore. He is within three feet of the bank when a something, which looks like a log of charred timber, rises to the surface behind him, two gleaming eyes glare at him, and, with a horrid snap, a pair of serrated jaws close upon his hind quarters, and he is dragged back and under, to furnish a meal to the terriblecayman.But the fugitives have no time for more than the merest superficial glance at this canine tragedy, for their human pursuers are now close at hand. The thowl-pins, luckily, are already in their places, left there by the fishermen, who have been too lazy to remove and stow them snugly away; the oars are therefore hastily caught up and tossed into their places, the boat is spun round like a top until her head points seaward, and, with vigorous strokes, the two men send her foaming out along the narrow river-channel toward the sea.The pursuers rein up upon the bank, and with one accord draw their pistols, and open a fusillade upon the flying boat. Fortunately it is a harmless one; one bullet lodges in the stern transom, a second chips a shaving off the loom of George’s oar, a third passes harmlessly through the planking of the boat’s bow and skims a few yards along the surface of the water beyond, and the remainder fly wide.But, afterso longand persevering a hunt, these men are not disposed to sit still tamely and witness the escape of those whom they have sworn to take back with them, dead or alive, to the plantation; so, after a few minutes of hurried consultation, three of them dismount, and, hauling one of the canoes to the bank, enter her and start in chase.The way in which they handle the paddles and send the light craft surging down the river in the wake of the boat proves that they are no novices in the boatman’s art, but neither are the two of whom they are in chase. George and Tom have already nearly forgotten their terrible fatigue; they are fast recovering their wind; their legs—the members in which they suffered most severely—are now comparatively at rest, an entirely new set of muscles is brought into action, and, as they are perfect masters of the art of handling an oar, they are getting a surprising rate of speed out of the old boat without very much effort. In a couple of minutes they are clear of the river’s mouth, through the rollers which are breaking on the miniature bar, and heading fairly out to sea.But human endurance has its limits, and after they had been tugging away for half an hour at the clumsy, ill-made oars, their exertions began to tell upon them. Their strength began to flag, and the canoe, which they had hitherto contrived to keep at a distance, began slowly to gain on them, though how much they could not well tell, as it was by this time quite dark, and they could only distinguish her as a small, dark, shapeless blot on the surface of the water, with a tiny luminous ripple under her bow. They were just beginning to discuss their probabilities of success, should it come to a hand-to-hand fight with those three armed and unfatigued men, when a faint puff of warm air fanned their faces.“Thank God!” exclaimed George fervently, “thank God! there is the first puff of the land-breeze.”With that he began to fumble with one hand at the lashings of the sail which lay stretched fore and aft along the thwart beside him, working his oar with the other hand meanwhile, and after a little difficulty the knot which secured them was cast loose, and the turns partially thrown off.“Now, Tom, you must finish the job,” exclaimed George; “you can reach and throw off the rest of the turns where you sit; the sail is a lug by the feel of it—at all events, here is a yard of some sort lying alongside the mast—and when you have cast off the lashings and are ready to step the mast, say the word, and lay in your oar; then I’ll scull the boat, whilst you step the mast and hoist the sail. Hurrah! here comes the breeze, hot and strong; get the canvas on her, and at last we shall be able to enjoy a rest. If those fellows are wise now, they’ll ’bout ship at once, and make for the shore, five minutes hence it will be blowing fresh, and, if they don’t look out, they’ll be blown off the land altogether. Are you ready? Then in oars, step the mast, and sway away upon the halliards.”So said, so done; Tom tossed in his oar, seized the mast, and stepped it. The halliards were already bent to the yard—laziness again, the fishermen evidently having been too indolent to cast them adrift, knowing that they would only have to bend them on again when next they wanted to use the sail—and in another minute Tom had the sail mastheaded, the tack lashed down, and the sheet aft in George’s hand; whilst the latter, sinking down in the sternsheets with a sigh of ineffable relief, and too tired yet to ship the rudder, steered the boat with the oar which he had used for sculling, whilst Tom was busied in the operation of making sail.The canoe, meanwhile, had crept up to within her own length of the chase, and oaths and exclamations of mutual encouragement were freely mingled with peremptory orders to the fugitives to surrender, and threats of the punishment awaiting them when caught; but no sooner was the sail set than the boat drew rapidly away, and in ten minutes more the canoe, with its occupants still paddling furiously out to sea, was invisible. George confidently expected to be saluted with a parting shower of bullets, but he was agreeably disappointed, owing possibly to the circumstance that in the hurry of pursuit the crew of the canoe had omitted to bring their ammunition with them.For the first four hours of their flight the voyagers were sailing continuously among the group of low islets which George had seen from the top of the hill; but about midnight, as nearly as they could guess, the last rock was passed, and they found themselves in open water.And now the want of a chart made itself disagreeably manifest. George was quite seaman enough to be able to steer a tolerably straight course, using the stars as a guide by night and the sun by day; but unfortunately, having nothing but his memory to go by, he had only a very vague notion of the proper course to steer, and of the distance which they would have to travel. His plans, moreover, were by no means fixed. One of his ideas was, to stand boldly out to sea in a south-easterly direction, in the hope of hitting Jamaica, where they would at once find themselves among friends able and willing to help them. But against this plan there were several grave objections, the chief of which was his uncertainty as to the exact position of the island and the consequent probability that, from its small size, they would miss it altogether. Then, again, they were absolutely without food or water. It is true, there were a few scraps of putrid fish in the boat, and Tom had found a fishing-line under the bottom-boards forward, so that, having a line and the wherewithal to bait it, they might possibly succeed in catching afewfish. But then it would obviously not do to rely on such a mere chance as that. Another idea was to get into the open water southward of the Isle of Pines, and look out for either an English frigate—one of which would be pretty certain to be cruising in that direction—or an eastward-bound merchantman from Honduras.This plan seemed to George the most feasible under the circumstances, and in favour of it he finally decided.The first matter to which they devoted themselves, on finding that they had no longer anything to fear from the canoe, was Walford’s comfort. The poor fellow made no complaint—indeed he had scarcely opened his mouth to utter a word since the moment when he received his injury,—but it had for the last two days been growing increasingly apparent to George that his unfortunate rival was rapidly sinking into a very critical condition. Under the combined effects of the injury, exposure, and want, he was wasting visibly away; his strength was so completely gone that he was quite unable to move without assistance; and George had once or twice asked himself the question, whether he was justified in involving this poor weak demented creature in the sufferings which there was only too much reason to believe still awaited them. Would it not have been truer kindness, he asked himself, to have left Walford in some sheltered spot where there would be a certainty of his being speedily found and taken care of? But reflection satisfied him that it would not. To have left him in the hands of the Spaniards would have been to leave him in slavery for the remainder of his life; and, judging by himself, Leicester felt that death itself would be preferable to such a fate. Then, again, there was the possibility—a slender one, it is true, but still a possibility—of their speedy rescue; in which case, with the care and nursing which he would be sure to receive, there was no reason why Walford should not recover both his health and his intellect.So, comforting himself with the reflection that he was doing the best he could for the unfortunate man, George arranged a comfortable berth for him in the sternsheets of the boat, and deposited him thereon, still lashed up in his canvas hammock, the grass packing of which formed a comparatively soft and comfortable support to his emaciated frame.

Having partaken of as much of the fruit as he deemed prudent, George at once betook himself to the task of climbing the precipice, and was agreeably surprised at the rapidity and ease with which he accomplished the ascent. Now that he was unencumbered with Walford’s weight, and was free from the horrible dread which had before haunted him—that a false step on Tom’s part might precipitate all hands to the bottom—his confidence in his own powers enabled him to coolly approach and successfully surmount obstacles which, under less favourable conditions, he would have dreaded to face, and in a few minutes he was within a foot or two of the top.

Here he deemed it prudent to pause for a moment and survey the path by which he had ascended, so that, in the event of danger, he might be able to effect a rapid retreat. The glance downward which he permitted himself to take, though only momentary, brought on again, though happily only in a mitigated degree, the same feeling of vertigo and nausea from which he had before suffered; and he was obliged to close his eyes for a short time, clinging convulsively to the rock meanwhile, to avoid falling headlong to the bottom.

Having at length once more recovered his steadiness, he rose cautiously higher and higher, until his head was level with the top edge of the precipice, and then he ventured to raise his head rapidly, cast a flying glance round, and dip it again. But the latter precaution was needless; the ground still sloped upward, so that he could see for a distance of some forty yards only, but all the visible space was perfectly clear; there was no human eye to detect his presence there. Once more raising his head, and this time taking a more leisurely and deliberate glance round, to make assurance doubly sure, he proceeded to make his way up over the edge on to the comparatively level ground at the top. This was a task demanding the utmost caution, for a depth of some eighteen inches of light soil crowned the rock, thickly covered with long rank grass, which, owing to the lightness of the soil, afforded but a very precarious and uncertain hold. The soil itself, too, crumbled away immediately beneath his touch, so that at the very top of the precipice he was unable to find anything to which he could safely hold. For a short time it almost seemed as if these apparently trifling obstacles were about to baffle him altogether, and it was not until he had actually laid bare the rock immediately in front of him, as far as his arm could reach, that he accomplished his object, and stood safely on the top of the cliff.

He now threw himself flat on the ground in the long grass, thus effectually concealing himself from the view of any chance passer-by, and crawled to the crest of the hill, where he again peered cautiously about him. The ground, from the spot whereon he knelt, declined pretty steeply to the sea, only a quarter of a mile distant; slightly to his right there lay a valley, with a tiny river flowing through it into the sea; and on either bank of this stream there stood two or three crazy wattle-huts, scarcely worthy the name of human habitations, with a net or two spread behind them on poles in the sun to dry. Three or four fishing-canoes and a boat—a ship’s boat, which looked as though it had been picked up derelict—were moored in the stream; but human beings, there were none visible. In line with the river, commencing at a distance of about two miles from the shore, and extending right out to the horizon, there lay a group of islets, some forty or more in number; and far away beyond them, lying like a thin grey cloud of haze on the water, he could see the Isle of Pines.

“So far, so good,” thought George. The spot was evidently a lonely one, inhabited by a few fishermen only; there was no sign of any watch being maintained on the chance of the runaways putting in an appearance, so the chase had doubtless by this time been abandoned as hopeless; there was a capital boat—which, in his urgent necessity, he felt he need not scruple to appropriate—lying in the stream below, and everything promised favourably for a successful escape from the island.

But though the scene below looked so quiet and deserted, and though the boat lay there so temptingly within sight, Leicester felt that the evening would be the most suitable time for making their final effort; they were in no immediate hurry now, and it was scarcely worth while to risk detection by putting off in broad daylight. Besides, the sea-breeze was blowing half a gale, and in their exhausted condition they would scarcely be able to drive the boat ahead against it; whilst, by waiting until sundown, they would have it calm to start with, and the breeze, when it came, would be off the land and in their favour.

Thus arguing the matter with himself, he rose to his feet, and sauntered leisurely back to the cliff-edge on his return journey.

He was surprised and greatly disconcerted now to discover how easy it was to miss the spot at which he had made his ascent. The strong breeze, sweeping over the grass, had obliterated every trace of his recent passage through it, but he confidently walked in what he believed to be the right direction—only to find himself mistaken. The bare patch of rock which he had cleared to facilitate his passage over the edge was of course, when once found, an unmistakable landmark; but he was quite five minutes walking to and fro on the cliff-edge before he hit upon it, and quite long enough to have insured his capture had he been surprised and closely pursued.

Having at last found it, however, he forthwith began his descent; and here again he was disagreeably reminded of the much greater difficulty which is experienced in thedescentthan in theascentof a cliff. His difficulties began with his first attempt to lower himself over the cliff-edge; and, notwithstanding his utmost care, he several times found himself in positions of the most appalling peril. He, however, got down safely to the cavern at last, and, after detailing to Tom the result of his observations, threw himself down on the rocky floor, to recover in sleep, if possible, the strength and nerve necessary for their final ascent.

When George awoke, the sun was within about an hour of setting. There was, therefore, time for him to go out and secure for his companions and himself another meal of the wild raspberries, which he accordingly did.

The fugitives had all their preparations complete in good time, and, when everything was quite ready, Leicester went out and stood at the entrance to the fissure, watching the shadows creep gradually higher and higher up the eastern side of the ravine as the sun declined toward the horizon. At length the last golden gleam vanished, the entire landscape assumed a hue of rich purple-grey, rapidly deepening in tone as the darkness of the tropical night settled swiftly down; and the supreme moment had arrived.

Returning at once to the interior of the cave, George briefly announced that it was time to start; Walford, already securely lashed in his hammock, was at once hoisted up between George and Tom as before, and, issuing from the mouth of the fissure, the fugitives forthwith began the last and most perilous part of the ascent.

They had scarcely risen a couple of yards when rapid hoof-beats were heard in the valley below, and, pausing for a moment to glance down, George saw a mounted figure galloping rapidly up the valley. He recognised it at once as one of their former pursuers, and saw in a moment how completely these pertinacious man-hunters had outwitted him. It immediately became clear to him that, failing to pick up the trail at the top of the precipice, these fellows had jumped to the conclusion that, improbable as it might seem, their prey must still be lurking hidden somewhere on the face of the precipice, and, doubtless during the previous night, the individual just seen had returned, and, secreting himself among the bushes below, had maintained an untiring watch on the face of the cliff. There could be no doubt that he had seen George’s ascent of the cliff that morning, and, observing him to be alone, had rightly concluded that the journey up the cliff had been made for the purpose of a reconnaissance, and had therefore remainedperdu, satisfied that before long his patience would be rewarded, as it had been, by witnessing the attempted flight of the whole party.

These reflections flashed like lightning through George’s brain, and helped him to an instant decision.

“Wemustgo onnow!” he exclaimed to Tom. “They have discovered our hiding-place, and if we were to return to it, they would simply blockade the top and bottom of the precipice, knowing that, sooner or later, we must inevitably fall into their hands; and, in addition to that, they would spread the information of our position all over the country, and perhaps offer a reward for our capture, in which case we should have perhaps a hundred watching for us instead of half-a-dozen. We have a chance yet; for it will take them fully twenty minutes to ride round, by which time, if we are fortunate, we can reach the boat. Now, Tom, my lad, do your utmost; in twenty minutes we shall either have won our freedom or relapsed into slavery for ever.”

Not another word was now said by either of them until that awful climb was over and they had, after countless hair-breadth escapes, safely reached the top of the cliff. When at last they once more stood on comparatively level ground, they felt as though their limbs had no strength to carry them another yard upon their way, so exhausting had been the superhuman efforts which they had put forth. But there was no pause—no rest for them yet; onward they must still press at their topmost speed, or all that they had hitherto endured would be in vain. The short journey from the top of the precipice to the summit of the rising ground was a cruel one; the slope, gentle though it was, telling upon them terribly as they staggered forward over the long slippery grass, panting, breathless, staggering and stumbling at every step, and dreading every moment to hear the triumphant shout announcing the arrival of their pursuers upon the scene.

But, so far, save that of their own laboured breathing, not a sound of any kind broke in upon the deep stillness of the evening hour; and, when at last they surmounted the crest of the hill, the scene below was one of peaceful solitude.

“Now one more—onesupremeeffort, Tom, and in five minutes we shall be free,” gasped George. “Muster all your courage and resolution, and let us make a run for it. Can you do it?”

“Ay, ay, sir, I’ll try,” was the scarcely articulate reply, and without more ado they set off down the slope at a run.

A run? Well, yes, it was a run, if it was anything at all; but such a run! Their limbs felt like lead, and Walford’s weight seemed to them enough to drag them down to the very centre of the earth. Every individual blade of grass seemed to be invested with the toughness of a hempen cable, and to trail directly across their path for the express purpose of retarding their progress and tripping them up. Their breath was gone; their mouths were open and gasping; their hearts were beating like sledge-hammers against their ribs, and pumping the blood in a great red-hot tide up into their heads; their brains reeled; their sight began to fail them; and what little of the scene was still perceptible to their disordered vision was apparently whirling in a mad dance up and down, round and round them, until they could not tell whether they were going right or wrong.

Yet on they still staggered and stumbled, first one, then the other, falling prone to the earth, but up again in an instant, and on once more.

At last they were at the base of the hill; another half-a-dozen yards, and they would be beside the stream; another twenty, and they would be in the boat. Hark! what sound is that? The dull thud of horses’ hoofs upon the turf! With what headlong speed the riders are pressing forward! And—ha! there is the exultant shout which tells that the prey is in sight.

“Thank God, there are no dogs with them,” thinks George. “Are there not?” Then what means that deep, sonorous baying sound which breaks with such startling distinctness on his frenzied ear? “On! on! for the love of God, press on!” gasps George; and with something almost like renewed effort the fugitives once more spring forward.

Hark! now you can hear the deep panting of those hell-hounds as they lunge forward at a gallop, silent now that their prey is in sight, their flaming eyes fixed upon the flying men in front of them, and their jaws champing in horrible anticipation.

One more bound, and the boat is reached. Poor Walford is tumbled unceremoniously into her; George and Tom follow, the latter wrenching from the foetid mud the stake to which the rotting painter is attached, whilst the former, with a last desperate effort, sends the crazy craft into the middle of the stream. As he rolls in over the gunwale a heavy splash is heard, and some cumbrous body scurries from the slimy bank into the water, whilst at the same moment the foremost hound, a magnificent creature, as big and as lithe as a panther, springs boldly after the receding boat. Healmostreaches her, not quite, his front paws catch upon the gunwale, but the rest of his body falls short and drops into the water. A thrust from one of the oars sends him clear of the boat, and, with a baffled howl, he turns and swims for the shore. He is within three feet of the bank when a something, which looks like a log of charred timber, rises to the surface behind him, two gleaming eyes glare at him, and, with a horrid snap, a pair of serrated jaws close upon his hind quarters, and he is dragged back and under, to furnish a meal to the terriblecayman.

But the fugitives have no time for more than the merest superficial glance at this canine tragedy, for their human pursuers are now close at hand. The thowl-pins, luckily, are already in their places, left there by the fishermen, who have been too lazy to remove and stow them snugly away; the oars are therefore hastily caught up and tossed into their places, the boat is spun round like a top until her head points seaward, and, with vigorous strokes, the two men send her foaming out along the narrow river-channel toward the sea.

The pursuers rein up upon the bank, and with one accord draw their pistols, and open a fusillade upon the flying boat. Fortunately it is a harmless one; one bullet lodges in the stern transom, a second chips a shaving off the loom of George’s oar, a third passes harmlessly through the planking of the boat’s bow and skims a few yards along the surface of the water beyond, and the remainder fly wide.

But, afterso longand persevering a hunt, these men are not disposed to sit still tamely and witness the escape of those whom they have sworn to take back with them, dead or alive, to the plantation; so, after a few minutes of hurried consultation, three of them dismount, and, hauling one of the canoes to the bank, enter her and start in chase.

The way in which they handle the paddles and send the light craft surging down the river in the wake of the boat proves that they are no novices in the boatman’s art, but neither are the two of whom they are in chase. George and Tom have already nearly forgotten their terrible fatigue; they are fast recovering their wind; their legs—the members in which they suffered most severely—are now comparatively at rest, an entirely new set of muscles is brought into action, and, as they are perfect masters of the art of handling an oar, they are getting a surprising rate of speed out of the old boat without very much effort. In a couple of minutes they are clear of the river’s mouth, through the rollers which are breaking on the miniature bar, and heading fairly out to sea.

But human endurance has its limits, and after they had been tugging away for half an hour at the clumsy, ill-made oars, their exertions began to tell upon them. Their strength began to flag, and the canoe, which they had hitherto contrived to keep at a distance, began slowly to gain on them, though how much they could not well tell, as it was by this time quite dark, and they could only distinguish her as a small, dark, shapeless blot on the surface of the water, with a tiny luminous ripple under her bow. They were just beginning to discuss their probabilities of success, should it come to a hand-to-hand fight with those three armed and unfatigued men, when a faint puff of warm air fanned their faces.

“Thank God!” exclaimed George fervently, “thank God! there is the first puff of the land-breeze.”

With that he began to fumble with one hand at the lashings of the sail which lay stretched fore and aft along the thwart beside him, working his oar with the other hand meanwhile, and after a little difficulty the knot which secured them was cast loose, and the turns partially thrown off.

“Now, Tom, you must finish the job,” exclaimed George; “you can reach and throw off the rest of the turns where you sit; the sail is a lug by the feel of it—at all events, here is a yard of some sort lying alongside the mast—and when you have cast off the lashings and are ready to step the mast, say the word, and lay in your oar; then I’ll scull the boat, whilst you step the mast and hoist the sail. Hurrah! here comes the breeze, hot and strong; get the canvas on her, and at last we shall be able to enjoy a rest. If those fellows are wise now, they’ll ’bout ship at once, and make for the shore, five minutes hence it will be blowing fresh, and, if they don’t look out, they’ll be blown off the land altogether. Are you ready? Then in oars, step the mast, and sway away upon the halliards.”

So said, so done; Tom tossed in his oar, seized the mast, and stepped it. The halliards were already bent to the yard—laziness again, the fishermen evidently having been too indolent to cast them adrift, knowing that they would only have to bend them on again when next they wanted to use the sail—and in another minute Tom had the sail mastheaded, the tack lashed down, and the sheet aft in George’s hand; whilst the latter, sinking down in the sternsheets with a sigh of ineffable relief, and too tired yet to ship the rudder, steered the boat with the oar which he had used for sculling, whilst Tom was busied in the operation of making sail.

The canoe, meanwhile, had crept up to within her own length of the chase, and oaths and exclamations of mutual encouragement were freely mingled with peremptory orders to the fugitives to surrender, and threats of the punishment awaiting them when caught; but no sooner was the sail set than the boat drew rapidly away, and in ten minutes more the canoe, with its occupants still paddling furiously out to sea, was invisible. George confidently expected to be saluted with a parting shower of bullets, but he was agreeably disappointed, owing possibly to the circumstance that in the hurry of pursuit the crew of the canoe had omitted to bring their ammunition with them.

For the first four hours of their flight the voyagers were sailing continuously among the group of low islets which George had seen from the top of the hill; but about midnight, as nearly as they could guess, the last rock was passed, and they found themselves in open water.

And now the want of a chart made itself disagreeably manifest. George was quite seaman enough to be able to steer a tolerably straight course, using the stars as a guide by night and the sun by day; but unfortunately, having nothing but his memory to go by, he had only a very vague notion of the proper course to steer, and of the distance which they would have to travel. His plans, moreover, were by no means fixed. One of his ideas was, to stand boldly out to sea in a south-easterly direction, in the hope of hitting Jamaica, where they would at once find themselves among friends able and willing to help them. But against this plan there were several grave objections, the chief of which was his uncertainty as to the exact position of the island and the consequent probability that, from its small size, they would miss it altogether. Then, again, they were absolutely without food or water. It is true, there were a few scraps of putrid fish in the boat, and Tom had found a fishing-line under the bottom-boards forward, so that, having a line and the wherewithal to bait it, they might possibly succeed in catching afewfish. But then it would obviously not do to rely on such a mere chance as that. Another idea was to get into the open water southward of the Isle of Pines, and look out for either an English frigate—one of which would be pretty certain to be cruising in that direction—or an eastward-bound merchantman from Honduras.

This plan seemed to George the most feasible under the circumstances, and in favour of it he finally decided.

The first matter to which they devoted themselves, on finding that they had no longer anything to fear from the canoe, was Walford’s comfort. The poor fellow made no complaint—indeed he had scarcely opened his mouth to utter a word since the moment when he received his injury,—but it had for the last two days been growing increasingly apparent to George that his unfortunate rival was rapidly sinking into a very critical condition. Under the combined effects of the injury, exposure, and want, he was wasting visibly away; his strength was so completely gone that he was quite unable to move without assistance; and George had once or twice asked himself the question, whether he was justified in involving this poor weak demented creature in the sufferings which there was only too much reason to believe still awaited them. Would it not have been truer kindness, he asked himself, to have left Walford in some sheltered spot where there would be a certainty of his being speedily found and taken care of? But reflection satisfied him that it would not. To have left him in the hands of the Spaniards would have been to leave him in slavery for the remainder of his life; and, judging by himself, Leicester felt that death itself would be preferable to such a fate. Then, again, there was the possibility—a slender one, it is true, but still a possibility—of their speedy rescue; in which case, with the care and nursing which he would be sure to receive, there was no reason why Walford should not recover both his health and his intellect.

So, comforting himself with the reflection that he was doing the best he could for the unfortunate man, George arranged a comfortable berth for him in the sternsheets of the boat, and deposited him thereon, still lashed up in his canvas hammock, the grass packing of which formed a comparatively soft and comfortable support to his emaciated frame.

Chapter Nineteen.Death claims a Victim.The breeze continued fresh until about midnight, after which it lessened a trifle, and came off from the larboard quarter. Daybreak found the boat off the north-eastern extremity of the Isle of Pines, and about five miles distant from that curious chain of islets called by the Spaniards the Islas de Mangles, which curves out like a breakwater across the northern face of the island. Their hunger, which had to some extent been appeased by their last plentiful meal of wild raspberries, and which had been altogether forgotten in the excitement of their subsequent flight now returned to them in full force, and, the breeze failing them, George determined to put the line overboard and try for a few fish.He was successful beyond his most sanguine expectations, half-a-dozen fine but grotesque-looking fish speedily rewarding his efforts. The idea of devouring them raw was rather repulsive, but as there was no possible means of cooking them, they had either to do that or go without breakfast; so, selecting the most tempting-looking, they cut it up, and, after making a wry face over the first mouthful or two, managed to satisfactorily dispose of it. That is to say, George and Tom did; but poor Walford, on being offered a share, shook his head, murmured that he was not hungry, and closed his eyes again in patient suffering. The balance of the catch was carefully cleaned and strung up on the yard, in the hope that it would dry in the sun.Their great want now waswater. Their hunger being satisfied, thirst began to assert itself, and George would have landed upon the Isle of Pines and endeavoured to find fresh water, but for the fact that he caught sight of several people on the shore, who appeared to be watching the boat with pertinacious curiosity. In this strait he tried the plan of dipping his shirt into the sea, and putting it on again dripping wet; and, to his great delight, he found that this proceeding had a very sensible effect in mitigating thirst. Upon this, Tom tried the same plan, with equally beneficial results, and then they well soused poor Walford with sea-water, hoping that it would, to some extent, revive and refresh him.By mid-day the Isle of Pines was broad on their starboard quarter, the lastCayon the “Jardines” shoal had been passed, and they were fairly at sea and in deep water. They might now reasonably look out for a frigate at any moment; but, as it would not do to depend upon this source of rescue alone, George continued to stand boldly to the southward and eastward, hoping that by so doing he would not only improve his prospects of falling in with a British frigate, but that he would also—failing the frigate—meet with a friendly merchantman.By sunset they were fairly out of sight of land, but, so far, nothing in the shape of a sail had greeted their longing eyes. Once or twice a white speck on the horizon had temporarily raised their hopes, but it had vanished the next moment, being probably nothing more than the sunlight flashing upon a sea-bird’s wing.George was hourly growing more and more anxious for a speedy rescue, not so much on his own account as for Walford’s sake, the condition of the latter being such as to give rise to the liveliest apprehension. He had eaten nothing since the previous day, pleading want of appetite, and as the sun went down he watched its gradual disappearance beneath the purple waves with wistful eagerness, murmuring, “The last time, the last time!” Then as the solemn darkness swept down over the sea, and the stars came out one by one in the great blue vault above, the little consciousness of his surroundings which he hitherto retained left him, and he fell to murmuring snatches of songs, mingled with babblings of his childhood’s days. The word “mother” was frequently upon his lips, and once he burst into a passion of hysterical tears, murmuring, child-like, that “he was very sorry; and that, if she would forgive him, he would be a good boy for the future, and would never do it again.”This state of things gravely alarmed George, who began to fear that the last great solemn change was at hand. It was therefore with a feeling of intense relief that he heard a hail of “Sail, ho!” from Tom, whose sharp eyes had at last caught sight of a genuine and unmistakable sail broad on the boat’s lee bow.There was nothing, however, to be done but to carefully watch the helm of the boat; she was already under canvas and steering the best course possible for intercepting the stranger; the only thing, therefore, was to steerstraight, otherwise the chances were that the ship would be missed, after all. The strange sail was steering about east-south-east, being close-hauled on the larboard tack, and, from her position, George thought it just possible that he might intercept her, or, at all events, near her sufficiently to permit of her crew hearing his hail as they passed.As the night deepened, the breeze freshened, and by the time that the strange sail had been in sight half an hour it was blowing so fresh that it was as much as they could do to keep the lee gunwale above water. Yet they dared not shorten sail, for the breeze which was threatening at every moment to capsize them was also hurrying the stranger more rapidly along, and consequently lessening their chances of intercepting her. Thick clouds, too, began to gather in the sky, threatening more wind, and, by obscuring the light of the moon, rendering it just so much the more unlikely that the crew of the approaching vessel would see them.At last a heavy squall burst about a mile to windward of them, and George was reluctantly compelled to order Tom forward to shorten sail. Unfortunately the halliards had somehow got jammed aloft in the sheave, and the sail would not come down. Tom tugged and tugged at it desperately, but all to no purpose; there it stuck, with the squall rushing down upon them like a race-horse.“Cast off the tack, Tom, and let the sail fly!” shouted George, and the lad had scarcely time to obey the order when the squall burst furiously upon them. The sail streamed out in the wind like a great banner from the top of the mast, lashing furiously, and shaking the boat to her keel. The crazy craft careened gunwale-to, notwithstanding that George had put his helm promptly up, and in another moment she would undoubtedly have gone over with them; but just as the water was beginning to pour in over the gunwale,crack! went the mast and the thwart with it over the side. The boat was nearly half full of water, and in their anxiety to free her, and get her before the wind, the mast and sail parted company from the boat, and they never saw them again.The squall lasted about five minutes, and then passed off, leaving only a gentle breeze behind it. As soon as this was the case, they had a look round for the strange sail, and made her out—a topsail-schooner—about a mile and a half distant. George saw that there was still a chance for them, so they out oars and pulled vigorously. All was going well, when, to their intense surprise, the craft, after approaching to within little more than a quarter of a mile of them, suddenly put up her helm, and, wearing round, stood away upon a south-westerly course. With one accord George and Tom started to their feet and shouted lustily and repeatedly, “Ship ahoy!Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!” until their throats were so strained that their voices failed them, and they became unable to utter another sound. It was all to no purpose; their cries attracted not the slightest notice; the schooner ran rapidly away from them and at last George in despair laid in his oar, flung himself down in the sternsheets, and covered his eyes with his hands, to shut out the tantalising sight.Half an hour afterwards the reason for this extraordinary conduct on the part of the schooner became apparent, the upper canvas of a large ship under a heavy press of sail appearing in the south-east quarter. That this ship was a man-o’-war was evident at a glance, from the cut of her sails; and the course which she was steering, together with her large spread of canvas, showed that she was in pursuit of the schooner.The first impulse of those in the boat was to out oars and pull toward her, but five minutes’ work sufficed to show them that their chance was almost hopeless; the frigate would pass them at a distance of about six miles, and with every eye on board her intently fixed upon the chase, what prospect was there, in that uncertain light, of so small an object as the boat being seen at so great a distance? Nevertheless, they toiled on with dogged perseverance, and did not abandon their efforts until the frigate had passed them, and her topsails had sunk below the horizon. Then indeed they laid in their oars, and directed their whole attention to Walford, whose condition became more alarming every moment.Not that he made any complaint. The poor fellow indeed seemed to be quite unconscious of his pain and weakness; but his ghastly pallor, his laboured breathing, and the convulsive shudders which agitated his frame from time to time were to George a tolerably clear indication that dissolution was near at hand.He was still quite light-headed, his mind wandering in feverish haste from scene to scene of his boyhood, as was evident from the rapid disjointed sentences which poured uninterruptedly from his lips. George was able to gather pretty clearly from them that, even as a lad, Walford had been wilful, headstrong, and obstinate, prone to go his own way without much consideration for the wishes of others, and there were occasional wild words and broken exclamations which seemed to indicate that, even whilst little more than a mere child, he had allowed himself to be betrayed into actual crime. And as he lay there, gasping his life away, the follies of boyhood and the graver offences of more recent days seemed to be in some way jumbled up hopelessly in his disordered mind with a confused idea of the urgent necessity for speedy repentance of both. There could be no doubt that, notwithstanding the disordered state of the unhappy man’s intellect, conscience was busily at work with him; that he was already beginning to dimly see the error of his ways and the hollowness—the utter unprofitableness—of his past life, and possibly also the critical nature of his position. But the mind was too completely shattered to avail itself of these promptings, and the remorse and regret which had tardily come to him found expression only in the simple pleadings for pardon which a child offers to its grieved parent. This distressing state of things lasted at intervals all through the night and well into the following day, when the dying man, utterly exhausted, sank into a fitful, troubled sleep.The pangs of hunger and—still worse—of thirst again making themselves felt, George once more put the fishing-line over the side, and, after waiting patiently for nearly an hour, had the satisfaction of feeling a smart tug at it. He gave a sharp jerk, to strike the hook firmly into his fish, and at once began to haul smartly in, but he had only gathered in a foot or so of the line when there came a terrific pull at it, which sent the cord flying through his fingers in spite of all his efforts to hold it. He promptly called Tom to his assistance, but even with this aid he was unable to hold the fish; and, as a last resource, he threw a couple of turns round one of the thowl-pins. The result was disastrous; the line snapped short off at the pin, and when they came to investigate further, they found that they had lost the whole of it, except a bare fathom, which still remained in the boat.This was a misfortune indeed, as it deprived them of their only means of obtaining that sustenance which was now becoming so urgent a necessity to them. But sailors are not easily disheartened, and they forthwith set to work to manufacture a new line out of the rope which they still had in the boat; Tom carefully unlaying the strands and jointing the yarns, whilst George tried his best to manufacture a hook out of a nail drawn from the gunwale of the boat. This task occupied them for the remainder of the day, and when it was completed the hook and line together constituted such a very make-shift, hopeless-looking affair that George, in spite of his hunger, could not repress an incredulous smile at the idea of any fish with his wits about him being beguiled by it. They tried it, however, but it was an utter failure; they could not secure even the barren encouragement of a nibble; and at last the attempt was given up in despair.Shortly before sunset Walford once more opened his eyes, and began to stare blankly about him. For a minute or two there was a look in his eyes which encouraged George to hope that reason was returning to her abandoned throne, but the look quickly passed away, and the incoherent mutterings recommenced. The sun went down, night’s mantle of darkness once more descended upon the sea, and then the full moon in all her queenly beauty rolled slowly into view above the horizon, flooding the scene with her silvery light, and investing it with a magical beauty which was not without its influence even on those poor famine-stricken creatures, who were watching with such sympathetic solicitude beside their dying companion.Suddenly Walford’s mutterings ceased, an expression of joyous surprise lighted up his ghastly wasted features, he seized George’s hand with a firm clasp in one of his, and, raising the other, exclaimed—“Hark! what was that?”“I heard nothing, Ned,” answered George tremulously; he knew instinctively now that the last dread moment was close at hand,—“I heard nothing; what was it?”“My mother,” answered Walford,—“my mother calling to me as she used to call me, when I was a little innocent child, when she—ha! there it is again. It is her own dear, well-remembered voice. She is calling me to go to her; I must not stay out at play any longer; I did so last night, you know, and it grieved her. She said I was a naughty, disobedient boy, and I made her cry. But she forgave me and kissed me after I had said my prayers, and—and—‘Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread;and forgive us our trespasses.’”As the first words of this simple, beautiful prayer issued from Walford’s dying lips, George and Tom threw themselves upon their knees in the bottom of the boat, their hands clasped, their heads bent, and their hearts earnestly uplifted to Him who was thus mercifully taking the poor sufferer to Himself. The first sentence was spoken with child-like simplicity, but, after that, every word was uttered with increasing fervour and an evident conception of its momentous import, until the clause was reached, “and forgive us our trespasses,” which was breathed forth with a solemn intensity that thrilled the very souls of the listeners. Then the voice suddenly ceased, and as George looked up with startled eyes he saw Walford’s lips tremble, a radiant smile parted them for an instant, and he sank heavily back on the boat’s thwart—dead.George gazed long and earnestly in the face of the dead man, his thoughts travelling rapidly back to that eventful evening when they two met—the one going humbly and doubtingly to declare his love, the other hurrying triumphantly away from a successful wooing; and Leicester grieved, as he pictured the sorrow of that loving woman’s heart, when the news should be taken to her of the sad event just past. He thought, too, of the strange meeting in mid-ocean, of the helpless state in which Walford had remained since then, of his own vow, and all that it had cost him, and as he reverently gathered the folds of canvas about the lifeless form he felt comforted with the reflection that, though he had failed, he had honestly done his best to keep that vow.He did what he could to dispose the corpse decently and to prepare it for its last long sleep beneath the waves; it was not much that he was able to do, but he did what he could, “for Lucy’s sake,” as he kept on muttering to himself; and when all was ready he turned to Tom. The poor lad, utterly worn-out, had sunk down in the bottom of the boat, and, with one arm supporting his head on the thwart, was fast asleep.“Well, better so,” thought George to himself; “he is enjoying at least a temporary respite from his miseries; I will not disturb him;” and, murmuring a short but earnest prayer, he raised the body in his arms, lifted it over the side of the boat, and allowed it to pass gently away from his grasp into the peaceful depths below. “God have mercy on his soul,” he murmured, and with clasped hands stood and watched the shrouded form passing slowly out of sight for ever.

The breeze continued fresh until about midnight, after which it lessened a trifle, and came off from the larboard quarter. Daybreak found the boat off the north-eastern extremity of the Isle of Pines, and about five miles distant from that curious chain of islets called by the Spaniards the Islas de Mangles, which curves out like a breakwater across the northern face of the island. Their hunger, which had to some extent been appeased by their last plentiful meal of wild raspberries, and which had been altogether forgotten in the excitement of their subsequent flight now returned to them in full force, and, the breeze failing them, George determined to put the line overboard and try for a few fish.

He was successful beyond his most sanguine expectations, half-a-dozen fine but grotesque-looking fish speedily rewarding his efforts. The idea of devouring them raw was rather repulsive, but as there was no possible means of cooking them, they had either to do that or go without breakfast; so, selecting the most tempting-looking, they cut it up, and, after making a wry face over the first mouthful or two, managed to satisfactorily dispose of it. That is to say, George and Tom did; but poor Walford, on being offered a share, shook his head, murmured that he was not hungry, and closed his eyes again in patient suffering. The balance of the catch was carefully cleaned and strung up on the yard, in the hope that it would dry in the sun.

Their great want now waswater. Their hunger being satisfied, thirst began to assert itself, and George would have landed upon the Isle of Pines and endeavoured to find fresh water, but for the fact that he caught sight of several people on the shore, who appeared to be watching the boat with pertinacious curiosity. In this strait he tried the plan of dipping his shirt into the sea, and putting it on again dripping wet; and, to his great delight, he found that this proceeding had a very sensible effect in mitigating thirst. Upon this, Tom tried the same plan, with equally beneficial results, and then they well soused poor Walford with sea-water, hoping that it would, to some extent, revive and refresh him.

By mid-day the Isle of Pines was broad on their starboard quarter, the lastCayon the “Jardines” shoal had been passed, and they were fairly at sea and in deep water. They might now reasonably look out for a frigate at any moment; but, as it would not do to depend upon this source of rescue alone, George continued to stand boldly to the southward and eastward, hoping that by so doing he would not only improve his prospects of falling in with a British frigate, but that he would also—failing the frigate—meet with a friendly merchantman.

By sunset they were fairly out of sight of land, but, so far, nothing in the shape of a sail had greeted their longing eyes. Once or twice a white speck on the horizon had temporarily raised their hopes, but it had vanished the next moment, being probably nothing more than the sunlight flashing upon a sea-bird’s wing.

George was hourly growing more and more anxious for a speedy rescue, not so much on his own account as for Walford’s sake, the condition of the latter being such as to give rise to the liveliest apprehension. He had eaten nothing since the previous day, pleading want of appetite, and as the sun went down he watched its gradual disappearance beneath the purple waves with wistful eagerness, murmuring, “The last time, the last time!” Then as the solemn darkness swept down over the sea, and the stars came out one by one in the great blue vault above, the little consciousness of his surroundings which he hitherto retained left him, and he fell to murmuring snatches of songs, mingled with babblings of his childhood’s days. The word “mother” was frequently upon his lips, and once he burst into a passion of hysterical tears, murmuring, child-like, that “he was very sorry; and that, if she would forgive him, he would be a good boy for the future, and would never do it again.”

This state of things gravely alarmed George, who began to fear that the last great solemn change was at hand. It was therefore with a feeling of intense relief that he heard a hail of “Sail, ho!” from Tom, whose sharp eyes had at last caught sight of a genuine and unmistakable sail broad on the boat’s lee bow.

There was nothing, however, to be done but to carefully watch the helm of the boat; she was already under canvas and steering the best course possible for intercepting the stranger; the only thing, therefore, was to steerstraight, otherwise the chances were that the ship would be missed, after all. The strange sail was steering about east-south-east, being close-hauled on the larboard tack, and, from her position, George thought it just possible that he might intercept her, or, at all events, near her sufficiently to permit of her crew hearing his hail as they passed.

As the night deepened, the breeze freshened, and by the time that the strange sail had been in sight half an hour it was blowing so fresh that it was as much as they could do to keep the lee gunwale above water. Yet they dared not shorten sail, for the breeze which was threatening at every moment to capsize them was also hurrying the stranger more rapidly along, and consequently lessening their chances of intercepting her. Thick clouds, too, began to gather in the sky, threatening more wind, and, by obscuring the light of the moon, rendering it just so much the more unlikely that the crew of the approaching vessel would see them.

At last a heavy squall burst about a mile to windward of them, and George was reluctantly compelled to order Tom forward to shorten sail. Unfortunately the halliards had somehow got jammed aloft in the sheave, and the sail would not come down. Tom tugged and tugged at it desperately, but all to no purpose; there it stuck, with the squall rushing down upon them like a race-horse.

“Cast off the tack, Tom, and let the sail fly!” shouted George, and the lad had scarcely time to obey the order when the squall burst furiously upon them. The sail streamed out in the wind like a great banner from the top of the mast, lashing furiously, and shaking the boat to her keel. The crazy craft careened gunwale-to, notwithstanding that George had put his helm promptly up, and in another moment she would undoubtedly have gone over with them; but just as the water was beginning to pour in over the gunwale,crack! went the mast and the thwart with it over the side. The boat was nearly half full of water, and in their anxiety to free her, and get her before the wind, the mast and sail parted company from the boat, and they never saw them again.

The squall lasted about five minutes, and then passed off, leaving only a gentle breeze behind it. As soon as this was the case, they had a look round for the strange sail, and made her out—a topsail-schooner—about a mile and a half distant. George saw that there was still a chance for them, so they out oars and pulled vigorously. All was going well, when, to their intense surprise, the craft, after approaching to within little more than a quarter of a mile of them, suddenly put up her helm, and, wearing round, stood away upon a south-westerly course. With one accord George and Tom started to their feet and shouted lustily and repeatedly, “Ship ahoy!Ship ahoy! Ship ahoy!” until their throats were so strained that their voices failed them, and they became unable to utter another sound. It was all to no purpose; their cries attracted not the slightest notice; the schooner ran rapidly away from them and at last George in despair laid in his oar, flung himself down in the sternsheets, and covered his eyes with his hands, to shut out the tantalising sight.

Half an hour afterwards the reason for this extraordinary conduct on the part of the schooner became apparent, the upper canvas of a large ship under a heavy press of sail appearing in the south-east quarter. That this ship was a man-o’-war was evident at a glance, from the cut of her sails; and the course which she was steering, together with her large spread of canvas, showed that she was in pursuit of the schooner.

The first impulse of those in the boat was to out oars and pull toward her, but five minutes’ work sufficed to show them that their chance was almost hopeless; the frigate would pass them at a distance of about six miles, and with every eye on board her intently fixed upon the chase, what prospect was there, in that uncertain light, of so small an object as the boat being seen at so great a distance? Nevertheless, they toiled on with dogged perseverance, and did not abandon their efforts until the frigate had passed them, and her topsails had sunk below the horizon. Then indeed they laid in their oars, and directed their whole attention to Walford, whose condition became more alarming every moment.

Not that he made any complaint. The poor fellow indeed seemed to be quite unconscious of his pain and weakness; but his ghastly pallor, his laboured breathing, and the convulsive shudders which agitated his frame from time to time were to George a tolerably clear indication that dissolution was near at hand.

He was still quite light-headed, his mind wandering in feverish haste from scene to scene of his boyhood, as was evident from the rapid disjointed sentences which poured uninterruptedly from his lips. George was able to gather pretty clearly from them that, even as a lad, Walford had been wilful, headstrong, and obstinate, prone to go his own way without much consideration for the wishes of others, and there were occasional wild words and broken exclamations which seemed to indicate that, even whilst little more than a mere child, he had allowed himself to be betrayed into actual crime. And as he lay there, gasping his life away, the follies of boyhood and the graver offences of more recent days seemed to be in some way jumbled up hopelessly in his disordered mind with a confused idea of the urgent necessity for speedy repentance of both. There could be no doubt that, notwithstanding the disordered state of the unhappy man’s intellect, conscience was busily at work with him; that he was already beginning to dimly see the error of his ways and the hollowness—the utter unprofitableness—of his past life, and possibly also the critical nature of his position. But the mind was too completely shattered to avail itself of these promptings, and the remorse and regret which had tardily come to him found expression only in the simple pleadings for pardon which a child offers to its grieved parent. This distressing state of things lasted at intervals all through the night and well into the following day, when the dying man, utterly exhausted, sank into a fitful, troubled sleep.

The pangs of hunger and—still worse—of thirst again making themselves felt, George once more put the fishing-line over the side, and, after waiting patiently for nearly an hour, had the satisfaction of feeling a smart tug at it. He gave a sharp jerk, to strike the hook firmly into his fish, and at once began to haul smartly in, but he had only gathered in a foot or so of the line when there came a terrific pull at it, which sent the cord flying through his fingers in spite of all his efforts to hold it. He promptly called Tom to his assistance, but even with this aid he was unable to hold the fish; and, as a last resource, he threw a couple of turns round one of the thowl-pins. The result was disastrous; the line snapped short off at the pin, and when they came to investigate further, they found that they had lost the whole of it, except a bare fathom, which still remained in the boat.

This was a misfortune indeed, as it deprived them of their only means of obtaining that sustenance which was now becoming so urgent a necessity to them. But sailors are not easily disheartened, and they forthwith set to work to manufacture a new line out of the rope which they still had in the boat; Tom carefully unlaying the strands and jointing the yarns, whilst George tried his best to manufacture a hook out of a nail drawn from the gunwale of the boat. This task occupied them for the remainder of the day, and when it was completed the hook and line together constituted such a very make-shift, hopeless-looking affair that George, in spite of his hunger, could not repress an incredulous smile at the idea of any fish with his wits about him being beguiled by it. They tried it, however, but it was an utter failure; they could not secure even the barren encouragement of a nibble; and at last the attempt was given up in despair.

Shortly before sunset Walford once more opened his eyes, and began to stare blankly about him. For a minute or two there was a look in his eyes which encouraged George to hope that reason was returning to her abandoned throne, but the look quickly passed away, and the incoherent mutterings recommenced. The sun went down, night’s mantle of darkness once more descended upon the sea, and then the full moon in all her queenly beauty rolled slowly into view above the horizon, flooding the scene with her silvery light, and investing it with a magical beauty which was not without its influence even on those poor famine-stricken creatures, who were watching with such sympathetic solicitude beside their dying companion.

Suddenly Walford’s mutterings ceased, an expression of joyous surprise lighted up his ghastly wasted features, he seized George’s hand with a firm clasp in one of his, and, raising the other, exclaimed—

“Hark! what was that?”

“I heard nothing, Ned,” answered George tremulously; he knew instinctively now that the last dread moment was close at hand,—“I heard nothing; what was it?”

“My mother,” answered Walford,—“my mother calling to me as she used to call me, when I was a little innocent child, when she—ha! there it is again. It is her own dear, well-remembered voice. She is calling me to go to her; I must not stay out at play any longer; I did so last night, you know, and it grieved her. She said I was a naughty, disobedient boy, and I made her cry. But she forgave me and kissed me after I had said my prayers, and—and—‘Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is done in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread;and forgive us our trespasses.’”

As the first words of this simple, beautiful prayer issued from Walford’s dying lips, George and Tom threw themselves upon their knees in the bottom of the boat, their hands clasped, their heads bent, and their hearts earnestly uplifted to Him who was thus mercifully taking the poor sufferer to Himself. The first sentence was spoken with child-like simplicity, but, after that, every word was uttered with increasing fervour and an evident conception of its momentous import, until the clause was reached, “and forgive us our trespasses,” which was breathed forth with a solemn intensity that thrilled the very souls of the listeners. Then the voice suddenly ceased, and as George looked up with startled eyes he saw Walford’s lips tremble, a radiant smile parted them for an instant, and he sank heavily back on the boat’s thwart—dead.

George gazed long and earnestly in the face of the dead man, his thoughts travelling rapidly back to that eventful evening when they two met—the one going humbly and doubtingly to declare his love, the other hurrying triumphantly away from a successful wooing; and Leicester grieved, as he pictured the sorrow of that loving woman’s heart, when the news should be taken to her of the sad event just past. He thought, too, of the strange meeting in mid-ocean, of the helpless state in which Walford had remained since then, of his own vow, and all that it had cost him, and as he reverently gathered the folds of canvas about the lifeless form he felt comforted with the reflection that, though he had failed, he had honestly done his best to keep that vow.

He did what he could to dispose the corpse decently and to prepare it for its last long sleep beneath the waves; it was not much that he was able to do, but he did what he could, “for Lucy’s sake,” as he kept on muttering to himself; and when all was ready he turned to Tom. The poor lad, utterly worn-out, had sunk down in the bottom of the boat, and, with one arm supporting his head on the thwart, was fast asleep.

“Well, better so,” thought George to himself; “he is enjoying at least a temporary respite from his miseries; I will not disturb him;” and, murmuring a short but earnest prayer, he raised the body in his arms, lifted it over the side of the boat, and allowed it to pass gently away from his grasp into the peaceful depths below. “God have mercy on his soul,” he murmured, and with clasped hands stood and watched the shrouded form passing slowly out of sight for ever.

Chapter Twenty.Mr Bowen unexpectedly reappears.About an hour afterwards a fine breeze sprang up from the north-east, and, putting the boat before it, George seated himself in the stern, tiller in hand, and steered as near a southerly course as the boat, without canvas, would go.Very gloomy and despondent were his thoughts as he sat there, idly watching the crisp-curling waves racing past. One of the trio had passed away, and, without food or water, without mast or sail, with their strength rapidly ebbing away, the situation of the remaining two was hourly growing more critical. Had they not had the misfortune to lose both mast and sail, George would have endeavoured to return to the Isle of Pines; but to do so with the oars alone, now that they had scarcely strength to use them, was impossible. There was no alternative, therefore, but to wait patiently, and hope that they might be picked up before it should be too late.The boat drifted on hour after hour, the sun rose, the wave-crests sparkled and glanced under his cheering rays, and still the horizon remained sail-less. At last Tom, after stirring uneasily, awoke from his stupor, glanced with eager, haggard eyes around him, and uttered a groan of despair.“Then it isnottrue, after all,” he gasped; and George noticed with consternation the difficulty with which the poor fellow articulated,—“it isnottrue; it was only a dream.”“What was a dream, Tom?” asked George, and he started at the hollow sepulchral tones of his own voice.“I dreamt that a noble ship had hove in sight and was bearing down upon us under stunsails. She was painted white from her truck down to her water-line; her canvas was white as snow; she was flying a great white flag from her main-royal-masthead, and the people on board her were all dressed in white. It was a grand sight to see her sweeping down toward us, with the cool clear water flashing up under her sharp bows, and there was—ah! see, it was no dream, after all; hurrah! she comes—she comes!”And the poor fellow pointed away to where the rays of the sun fell upon the water in a broad white dazzling glare.“Merciful Heaven!” muttered George, “this is horrible; the lad is out of his senses, gone mad with hunger and thirst. Sit down, Tom,” said he coaxingly, “sit down, there’s a good fellow; I can see no ship. What you see is only the glare of the sun on the water. But if we are only patient, please God, a shipwillcome and pick us up before long. But we must be cool and steady, and keep a sharp lookout, so that when she heaves in sight we may be ready to signal to her.”Tom passed his hand wearily over his forehead, shaded his eyes with his hand, again peered long and anxiously over the gleaming sea, and shook his head despondingly. The bright vision had vanished, and he sank moodily down in the bottom of the boat, his arms resting upon the thwart, and his head bowed upon them.Oh! that terrible time ofwaiting; with the sun beating mercilessly down upon their uncovered heads and scorching up their brains; with the hellish tortures of hunger and thirst, already unendurable, momentarily increasing in intensity; with a horrible feeling of deadly weakness fast paralysing their energies and dragging like leaden weights upon their aching limbs, what wonder that each moment lagged until it seemed an hour, each minute a day, and that the hours stretched themselves out into eternities of overwhelming anguish! At last George feebly felt, with a curious mingling of despair and relief, that his own senses were leaving him. Soon the boat was—to his disordered vision—no longer drifting helplessly upon a lonely sea; she was tranquilly gliding under silken sails up the winding reaches of a gently flowing stream, the crystal waters of which flowed over golden sands and between banks of richest flowery verdure, with overshadowing trees whose boughs drooped beneath their load of blushing fruit; whilst, in the distance, palaces of whitest marble gleamed amid the many-tinted foliage, and all the air was musical with the songs of birds. He no longer felt the agonies of hunger or the fiery torment of thirst; he plucked the ripe fruit as the boat swept gently past, and his pangs were assuaged; he no longer suffered from the scorching rays of the sun, for a silken awning floated over his head, and the cool breeze crept refreshingly beneath it and gently fanned his aching brow; and he no longer suffered from weariness, for his body reclined upon cushions of the softest down, and he felt himself gradually sinking into a luxurious slumber under the soothing influence of the most entrancing melodies.“Ou ay; he’ll do weel eneuch, he’s comin’ roun’ brawly; it’s joost a plain common case o’ starvation an’ exposure; there’s naething complicatit about it at a’; pairfect rest and a guid nourishing diet ’ll set him on his pins again in less than a week.”Such were the words which fell upon George Leicester’s ear as he once more became feebly conscious of the fact of his own existence. The words came to him mingled with other sounds, to wit—the creaking of bulkheads, the rattling of cabin doors hooked back to allow the free passage of fresh air, the grinding of a rudder and the clank of rudder-chains, the sonorous hum of the wind through a ship’s rigging, the flapping of a sail, the distant subdued murmur of men’s voices, and the soft plashing of water. He at the same time became conscious of a gentle swaying and pitching motion, such as is felt on board a ship close-hauled, with a moderate breeze and a correspondingly moderate sea.For a minute or two George felt languidly puzzled as to his whereabouts, but he was by no means anxious for enlightenment upon the subject; he was in a state of blissful comfort, and he was quite content to remain in passive enjoyment of the same, to feel the gentle current of air softly fanning his brow, to yield himself to the easy, luxurious swing of the cot in which he was lying, and to listen dreamily to the soothing sough of the wind and the plash and gurgle of the water along the ship’s side.It was whilst he remained in this semi-conscious state of beatitude that another voice broke in, in cheery response to the words of the first speaker, with—“That’s capital news, doctor; I heartily congratulate you on the successful result of your efforts. And the other one is also likely to do well, you say?”“Ou ay; he’ll do weel eneuch, too; though—mind ye—the puir laddie has had a narrow escape. But they’re a’ richt the noo; I ken richt weel what tae do wi’ baith noo that I hae succeedit in bringin’ back some signs o’ life in them. And noo, captain, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll—eh, weel! hoo’s a’ wi’ ye the noo, my mon?”This exclamation was elicited by the circumstance that George had at last mustered sufficient resolution to open his eyes and look curiously about him.And this is what he saw. He saw that he was the occupant of a snow-white canvas cot, which hung suspended from the beams of a ship’s roomy after-cabin, the situation of the apartment being manifested by the presence of stern-ports fitted with glazed sashes, all of which were open. There were also two side-ports, one on each side of the cabin, out of which grinned a couple of eighteen-pound carronades, the carriages of which, as well as the whole of the gun inside the port, were painted white. The walls of the cabin, the deck-beams, and the underside of the deck were also painted white with gilt mouldings; a few pictures—one of which was the portrait of a lady—were securely fastened to the walls; the floor was covered with fine matting, and a large writing-table with three or four solid, substantial-looking chairs completed the furnishing of the apartment.But the chief objects of attraction to George were two figures, which stood beside his cot. One of these was a tall, lanky individual, clad entirely in white, with red hair, prominent cheek-bones, and a pair of piercing grey eyes surmounted by shaggy eye-brows. The other was a shorter, stouter man, light-haired and blue-eyed, a genuine Saxon all over, his fair complexion tanned to a rich ruddy-brown hue, and with a hearty, kindly, genial expression of countenance which won George’s heart in an instant. This individual was also in white, his clothing being reduced to a shirt and a pair of white duck trousers supported at the waist by a belt. George had no difficulty in deciding that he was on board one of his Majesty’s frigates, and that the persons who stood beside him were her captain and the medico.“Hoo’s a’ wi’ ye the noo, my mon?” repeated the doctor, placing his fingers upon George’s pulse.“I—I—scarcely know,” stammered George drowsily. “I feel all right and very comfortable. Is anything the matter? And—andwhere am I?”“Ye feel a’ richt, do ye?” returned the doctor, ignoring George’s question. “Ye’re no’ hungry—nor thirsty, eh?”“Not particularly,” answered George. “And yet I think I could take some breakfast, if it would not be troubling—”“Brackfast! Hear til him; brackfast! why, mon,”—drawing out a huge, turnip-like silver watch—“it’s nearly sax o’clock p.m. Will a bite o’ dinner no’ serve ye as weel? Hech, hech,” and the queer, grumpy-looking visage of the really genial-hearted doctor beamed into a smile, as his lips uttered the strange sounds which with him passed for laughter.Doctor Pearson’s laughter was infectious, perhaps because of its singularity. George smiled in response, and Captain Singleton smiled too; then, turning to the doctor, the latter said—“My dinner will be served in a few minutes, doctor. If you think it would not injure your patient, I will send him in something from my table.”“Weel,” responded the doctor with the caution characteristic of his countrymen, “I’ll no’ commit mysel’ by any positeeve statement just; I’ll wait and see, since ye’ve been so vera kind as to ask me to dine wi’ ye. But I think I may venture to say that a wee drappie o’ soup will no’ hurt the chiel. And noo, wi’ your leave, captain, I’ll just tak’ the sma’ leeberty o’ turnin’ ye oot o’ your ain cabin, as there’s been an ample suffeecency o’ conversation for the present.”The captain laughed good-naturedly, and turned, with a friendly nod to George, to leave the cabin. Doctor Pearson also turned to go, but paused for an instant to once more feel George’s pulse, and then, with an amiable grunt of satisfaction, he also walked out, saying as he went—“Never fash your brains, my mon, by wonderin’ whaur ye are. Ye’re in guid han’s, ye may tak’ my word for it, and in guid time, when ye’re strong eneuch to talk, you’ll be told everything. Noo lie still, and keep your ’ees open for a few minutes, and I’ll see that ye hae a decent bit of dinner sent in til ye.”The worthy doctor was as good as his word; a substantial basin of nourishing soup, with a small quantity of fresh, white, wholesome cabin-biscuit broken into it—“soft tack” was a comparatively unknown luxury at sea in those days—and a glass of port wine being brought in to George by the captain’s steward about ten minutes later; and, having demolished these, the patient once more dropped off to sleep, and passed a comfortable night.Three days more of Doctor Pearson’s skilful treatment sufficed to put both George and Tom upon their pins once more, and then, and not until then, Captain Singleton asked of the former an account of the circumstances which had resulted in placing them in the desperate situation in which they had been found.“Well,” said the captain at the conclusion of George’s story, “I heartily sympathise with you, Mr Leicester, in all that you have suffered, and I as heartily congratulate you on your plucky escape. It was rather a clever trick, the way in which those rascals took your ship from you, Imustsay that. It is a wrinkle which, possibly, I may some day play off in turn upon their own countrymen. By your description of them, I should say that the fellows were undoubtedly pirates; the sea swarms with them all round about here—indeed, we are now cruising for the purpose of putting a stop to their depredations, and were returning from an unsuccessful chase after a very suspicious-looking schooner when we picked you up. There is one craft in particular—a barque of undoubtedly English build—which we are most anxious to lay our hands upon; her crew are a peculiarly bloodthirsty set of ruffians, and have perpetrated an unusually large number of atrocities. By-the-bye, did you not say that your vessel was barque-rigged and a fast sailer? I should not be at all surprised to find that she is the identical craft we are so anxious to get hold of. Would you mind giving me a particular description of theAurora?”George, of course, readily acceded to this request, detailing with seaman-like fidelity every peculiarity of hull and rigging. When he had finished, Captain Singleton said—“Thank you. The set of the spars and rigging, and the cut of the canvas, does not coincide with the description with which I have been furnished; but your description of thehulltallies with mine in every particular, and I have not a doubt that it is the same vessel. And now, to turn to other matters, what do you propose to do with yourself when we land you at Kingston?”“Well,” said George, “I scarcely know; but I suppose I shall endeavour to get a berth on board a homeward-bound ship, or work my passage home. There is nothing else that I can do, for I am absolutely penniless.”“Well,” said Captain Singleton, “if a sufficient sum to defray the expenses of your passage home would be of any service to you, I dare say I could manage to raise such an amount, and you shall be heartily welcome to it.”“Thank you, very much,” returned George; “but I could not possibly accept your exceedingly kind offer, even as a loan, for I could not be certain of ever being in a position to repay it. No, I shall have to get a berth of some kind.”Four days after the above conversation the cruise of theHebeterminated, and on the day following George and Tom found themselves cast adrift, as it were, in the sandy streets of Kingston.They were not absolutely penniless, however; for, in addition to a good serviceable suit of clothes apiece out of the slop-chest, Captain Singleton had insisted upon George’s accepting a ten-pound note, to meet their more immediate needs, and, being in a friendly port now, the two seamen had very little doubt of getting employment of some kind or other before long.Their idea was first to make the round of the various shipping agents’ offices, and endeavour to obtain a berth on a homeward-bound ship. If that failed, then George thought they might possibly, aided by Captain Singleton’s influence, obtain work in the dockyard at Port Royal; and, if the worst came to the worst, they could always depend with absolute certainty upon being received on board a man-o’-war.In pursuance of the first-mentioned plan, they were wending their way along the street, when, as they passed the entrance to a large general store, they were violently jostled by a man who was making his exit from the place with considerable precipitation.“Beg pardon, shipmates, no damage done, I hope. I ought to have kept a better lookout when crowding sail to the extent—why—why—no, itcan’tbe; and yet—hang me if itain’t, after all. Well, thisisa pleasant surprise, and no mistake. Cap’n, how are ye? And you, Tom, how did them damned slave-drivers treat you?”It was Mr Bowen, the late chief mate of theAurora. He was dressed in the somewhat rough garb of the mate of a coasting schooner, but was looking well and hearty nevertheless, and certainly had nothing of the appearance of a man who had recently been suffering the horrors of slavery.George and Tom both shook hands heartily with their old friend, and then Mr Bowen—who seemed to be pretty well acquainted with the town—led the way into a quiet, respectable tavern near the water-side.Having called for some sangaree in honour of the unexpected and very agreeable meeting, George, at his friend’s request, proceeded to recount all that had happened since the eventful morning when they were separated (for life, as each then feared) in the square at Havana. When he had finished the story, he added—“And now, Bowen, my dear old friend, let us know howyoufared among the Dons.”“Badly enough, cap’n, badly enough,” was the reply. “But you shall hear the whole story, such as ’tis. Maybe you happen to remember the chap as bought me—a tall, thin feller, with a nose like the beak of an eagle, and a wicked look in his glittering black eyes. Well, as soon as this here Don Christoval—that was his name—as soon as he’d bought all the slaves he wanted, we was all chained together, and started on a march to the south’ard. We travelled the whole width of that cursed island, taking two days over the trip, and was then shipped across in a little flat-bottomed sailin’-boat to the Isle de Pinos, where this here Christoval had a big ’baccy plantation. It took us a whole day, after we’d landed on the Isle of Pines, to reach the place, and on the following morning we were set to work.“As it happened, I was the only white slave on the plantation, and, whether ’twas on this account, or whether ’twas because I was an Englishman, I can’t tell, but I soon found out that all hands, from Don Christoval downwards, had a special spite against me, and seemed determined to make the place as hot as they could for me. I was put to all the heaviest and dirtiest work about the place, and if there was a job that had to be done after knockin’-off time, I was the man that had to do it.“There was nothing but Spanish spoke about the place, so I very soon got acquainted with the lingo, whether I liked it or not; and almost the first thing I understood was that Mr Don Christoval had boasted that, fierce as I was, he’d tame me so that in six months I wouldn’t dare to say my soul was my own.“Well, you may be sure that my temper hadn’t grown much more amiable from being made a slave of, and this palaver abouttamingjust made me worse than ever. I vowed by all that was holy Iwouldn’tbe tamed, let ’em do what they would, and a pretty miserable time of it this stupid vow and my own obstinacy brought me. They used to amuse themselves by seein’ what they could do to rouse me; the overseers, as they were riding by, would pull up and begin to abuse and scoff at me, flicking at me with their whips all the time, and I dare say you know pretty well how clever those same overseers are with their whips—they’ll hit a fly twenty feet off. And when they’d see my eyes begin to sparkle, they’d just let out with the infernal whip, fetching me a regular ‘stinger’ across the shoulders, and gallop off, laughing. I can tell you, they made a regular devil of me before all was done.“Well, one morning there was a regular rumpus on the estate. Don Christoval had sold some cattle the day before, and had been paid for ’em. The money was stowed carefully away by him when he turned in that night, and next morning ’twas gone—somebody’d crept into the house during the night, and had stole it. Well, as there was nobody about the estate but the regular hands, it was clear enough that some of these must have got hold of the cash, and the lying scoundrels had the impudence to say that I was the thief. They came down, two of the overseers did, and searched my hut fore and aft, from deck to keelson; but, of course, they didn’t find it, for the simple reason that I hadn’t took it. Hows’ever, they would insist that I knew where ’twas, and at last they dragged me up to the house, and told the Don that I’d took it, but that they couldn’t find it because I’d hid it away somewhere.“The Don happened to be just starting off for a ride, and was mounted on a splendid black horse. He sat there in the saddle and listened to all that the overseers had to say, and when they’d finished, he spurred his horse at me, and swearing that he’d get the secret out of me, if he had to cut my heart out to find it, raised his heavy riding-whip, and made a slash at me.“Well, cap’n, and Tom, old shipmate, you needn’t be told that I had already been made pretty savage by all this business, and when this hawk-nosed Don Christoval struck out at me, why, it just roused all the devil there was in me. I put up my hand—so—as if to ward off the stroke, and as the whip came down, I caught it in my hand, wrenched it out of the Don’s grasp, and, as quick as lightning, returned the blow with all my strength, lashing him fair across the face and cutting his cheek open. He reeled backwards in his saddle, and I, first letting out right and left at the two overseers, who stood one on each side of me, and bowling them over like a couple of ninepins, sprang upon him, seized him by the collar, and dragged him out of his saddle, and, leaping upon the frightened horse’s back, gave the poor brute a lash across the flank, which sent him flying down the road, through the ’baccy plants, and out upon the open country like a shot out of a shovel.“Well, I don’t know that I’d ever been on horseback in my life before, but somehow I managed to stick to the saddle, it didn’t seem at all difficult, and on I went, straight ahead, as fast as the horse could gallop, for an hour or more, and then we fetched up somewhere on the shore. There was a schooner in the offing with the British flag flying at her gaff-end, and, as luck would have it, I’d just managed to hit the spot where a boat’s crew belonging to her were ashore, filling up their fresh water. I told the middy in charge who and what I was, and he shoved off at once with me, took me aboard, and told the lieutenant in command all about me; and, after knocking about with ’em for a fortnight, I landed here, just six months ago. And that ends my yarn.”“And what have you been doing since then?” asked George, after congratulating Bowen on his escape.“Well, cap’n,” was the reply, “I never once forgot the promise I made to you the day we were separated in Havana. I felt certain that you’d manage to get away somehow some day; and I felt just as certain that, sooner or later, you’d turn up here in Kingston. So, as soon as I was landed here, I made inquiries, and, not being able to learn that anything had been heard of you, I just looked about me a bit, and got a berth on board a little coaster, so’s to be on the spot whenever you might happen to turn up. I’d told our story pretty freely here in Kingston, so that, even if I’d happened to have been at sea at the time, there’s plenty of people that would have taken you in tow, and provided you with the needful until I came in again. Now that you’ve put in an appearance, of course I shall throw up my berth, and we’ll all sink or swim together.”“Thanks, Bowen, thanks; that’s just like your disinterestedness,” answered George; “but what are we to do? The only thing I can see for it is to get berths, if possible, on board some homeward-bounder.”“Homeward-bounder?” exclaimed Bowen with contemptuous emphasis, “why—but there, I suppose you don’t know anything about it, or you wouldn’t talk like that.”“About what?” asked George, completely mystified.“Why, about our prize that we took that dark night on the passage out—the privateer brig—theJeune Virginie. She’s lying down there at Port Royal, safe and sound, with a British crew on board her; and all you’ve got to do, cap’n, is to make your claim, and establish your identity, and the ship or her value will be handed over to you.”“Is it possible?” exclaimed George. “Then we are lucky indeed. But you must explain the whole affair to me.”“That’s easy enough,” answered Bowen. “The very first time I entered Port Royal harbour I saw the craft lying there, and knew her again at once. Thinks I to myself, ‘Now, Dick Bowen, my lad, your first duty is to recover possession of that prize on behalf of the skipper.’ So off I goes to the admiral, stated my case, and made my claim.“‘That’s all very well, my fine fellow,’ says he, ‘and I don’t doubt but what you’re telling the truth; but, you see,’ says he, ‘you can’tproveit. Now Imusthave something beyond your bare word before I give up possession of the brig. When you can bring me something in the shape of proof that what you say is true, come to me again, and I’ll see what can be done in the matter.’“Of course that was all right and straight-for’ard enough, so I went away, and troubled no more about it. The craft is safe enough; they’ve been using her as a cruiser, and taking care of her, and I don’t doubt but what she’s in just as good order as she was on the night when we took her. And now, all we’ve got to do is to go to the admiral again, and make our claim. There’sthreeof us this time, so that there’ll be no difficulty at all in getting her delivered over to us.”

About an hour afterwards a fine breeze sprang up from the north-east, and, putting the boat before it, George seated himself in the stern, tiller in hand, and steered as near a southerly course as the boat, without canvas, would go.

Very gloomy and despondent were his thoughts as he sat there, idly watching the crisp-curling waves racing past. One of the trio had passed away, and, without food or water, without mast or sail, with their strength rapidly ebbing away, the situation of the remaining two was hourly growing more critical. Had they not had the misfortune to lose both mast and sail, George would have endeavoured to return to the Isle of Pines; but to do so with the oars alone, now that they had scarcely strength to use them, was impossible. There was no alternative, therefore, but to wait patiently, and hope that they might be picked up before it should be too late.

The boat drifted on hour after hour, the sun rose, the wave-crests sparkled and glanced under his cheering rays, and still the horizon remained sail-less. At last Tom, after stirring uneasily, awoke from his stupor, glanced with eager, haggard eyes around him, and uttered a groan of despair.

“Then it isnottrue, after all,” he gasped; and George noticed with consternation the difficulty with which the poor fellow articulated,—“it isnottrue; it was only a dream.”

“What was a dream, Tom?” asked George, and he started at the hollow sepulchral tones of his own voice.

“I dreamt that a noble ship had hove in sight and was bearing down upon us under stunsails. She was painted white from her truck down to her water-line; her canvas was white as snow; she was flying a great white flag from her main-royal-masthead, and the people on board her were all dressed in white. It was a grand sight to see her sweeping down toward us, with the cool clear water flashing up under her sharp bows, and there was—ah! see, it was no dream, after all; hurrah! she comes—she comes!”

And the poor fellow pointed away to where the rays of the sun fell upon the water in a broad white dazzling glare.

“Merciful Heaven!” muttered George, “this is horrible; the lad is out of his senses, gone mad with hunger and thirst. Sit down, Tom,” said he coaxingly, “sit down, there’s a good fellow; I can see no ship. What you see is only the glare of the sun on the water. But if we are only patient, please God, a shipwillcome and pick us up before long. But we must be cool and steady, and keep a sharp lookout, so that when she heaves in sight we may be ready to signal to her.”

Tom passed his hand wearily over his forehead, shaded his eyes with his hand, again peered long and anxiously over the gleaming sea, and shook his head despondingly. The bright vision had vanished, and he sank moodily down in the bottom of the boat, his arms resting upon the thwart, and his head bowed upon them.

Oh! that terrible time ofwaiting; with the sun beating mercilessly down upon their uncovered heads and scorching up their brains; with the hellish tortures of hunger and thirst, already unendurable, momentarily increasing in intensity; with a horrible feeling of deadly weakness fast paralysing their energies and dragging like leaden weights upon their aching limbs, what wonder that each moment lagged until it seemed an hour, each minute a day, and that the hours stretched themselves out into eternities of overwhelming anguish! At last George feebly felt, with a curious mingling of despair and relief, that his own senses were leaving him. Soon the boat was—to his disordered vision—no longer drifting helplessly upon a lonely sea; she was tranquilly gliding under silken sails up the winding reaches of a gently flowing stream, the crystal waters of which flowed over golden sands and between banks of richest flowery verdure, with overshadowing trees whose boughs drooped beneath their load of blushing fruit; whilst, in the distance, palaces of whitest marble gleamed amid the many-tinted foliage, and all the air was musical with the songs of birds. He no longer felt the agonies of hunger or the fiery torment of thirst; he plucked the ripe fruit as the boat swept gently past, and his pangs were assuaged; he no longer suffered from the scorching rays of the sun, for a silken awning floated over his head, and the cool breeze crept refreshingly beneath it and gently fanned his aching brow; and he no longer suffered from weariness, for his body reclined upon cushions of the softest down, and he felt himself gradually sinking into a luxurious slumber under the soothing influence of the most entrancing melodies.

“Ou ay; he’ll do weel eneuch, he’s comin’ roun’ brawly; it’s joost a plain common case o’ starvation an’ exposure; there’s naething complicatit about it at a’; pairfect rest and a guid nourishing diet ’ll set him on his pins again in less than a week.”

Such were the words which fell upon George Leicester’s ear as he once more became feebly conscious of the fact of his own existence. The words came to him mingled with other sounds, to wit—the creaking of bulkheads, the rattling of cabin doors hooked back to allow the free passage of fresh air, the grinding of a rudder and the clank of rudder-chains, the sonorous hum of the wind through a ship’s rigging, the flapping of a sail, the distant subdued murmur of men’s voices, and the soft plashing of water. He at the same time became conscious of a gentle swaying and pitching motion, such as is felt on board a ship close-hauled, with a moderate breeze and a correspondingly moderate sea.

For a minute or two George felt languidly puzzled as to his whereabouts, but he was by no means anxious for enlightenment upon the subject; he was in a state of blissful comfort, and he was quite content to remain in passive enjoyment of the same, to feel the gentle current of air softly fanning his brow, to yield himself to the easy, luxurious swing of the cot in which he was lying, and to listen dreamily to the soothing sough of the wind and the plash and gurgle of the water along the ship’s side.

It was whilst he remained in this semi-conscious state of beatitude that another voice broke in, in cheery response to the words of the first speaker, with—

“That’s capital news, doctor; I heartily congratulate you on the successful result of your efforts. And the other one is also likely to do well, you say?”

“Ou ay; he’ll do weel eneuch, too; though—mind ye—the puir laddie has had a narrow escape. But they’re a’ richt the noo; I ken richt weel what tae do wi’ baith noo that I hae succeedit in bringin’ back some signs o’ life in them. And noo, captain, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ll—eh, weel! hoo’s a’ wi’ ye the noo, my mon?”

This exclamation was elicited by the circumstance that George had at last mustered sufficient resolution to open his eyes and look curiously about him.

And this is what he saw. He saw that he was the occupant of a snow-white canvas cot, which hung suspended from the beams of a ship’s roomy after-cabin, the situation of the apartment being manifested by the presence of stern-ports fitted with glazed sashes, all of which were open. There were also two side-ports, one on each side of the cabin, out of which grinned a couple of eighteen-pound carronades, the carriages of which, as well as the whole of the gun inside the port, were painted white. The walls of the cabin, the deck-beams, and the underside of the deck were also painted white with gilt mouldings; a few pictures—one of which was the portrait of a lady—were securely fastened to the walls; the floor was covered with fine matting, and a large writing-table with three or four solid, substantial-looking chairs completed the furnishing of the apartment.

But the chief objects of attraction to George were two figures, which stood beside his cot. One of these was a tall, lanky individual, clad entirely in white, with red hair, prominent cheek-bones, and a pair of piercing grey eyes surmounted by shaggy eye-brows. The other was a shorter, stouter man, light-haired and blue-eyed, a genuine Saxon all over, his fair complexion tanned to a rich ruddy-brown hue, and with a hearty, kindly, genial expression of countenance which won George’s heart in an instant. This individual was also in white, his clothing being reduced to a shirt and a pair of white duck trousers supported at the waist by a belt. George had no difficulty in deciding that he was on board one of his Majesty’s frigates, and that the persons who stood beside him were her captain and the medico.

“Hoo’s a’ wi’ ye the noo, my mon?” repeated the doctor, placing his fingers upon George’s pulse.

“I—I—scarcely know,” stammered George drowsily. “I feel all right and very comfortable. Is anything the matter? And—andwhere am I?”

“Ye feel a’ richt, do ye?” returned the doctor, ignoring George’s question. “Ye’re no’ hungry—nor thirsty, eh?”

“Not particularly,” answered George. “And yet I think I could take some breakfast, if it would not be troubling—”

“Brackfast! Hear til him; brackfast! why, mon,”—drawing out a huge, turnip-like silver watch—“it’s nearly sax o’clock p.m. Will a bite o’ dinner no’ serve ye as weel? Hech, hech,” and the queer, grumpy-looking visage of the really genial-hearted doctor beamed into a smile, as his lips uttered the strange sounds which with him passed for laughter.

Doctor Pearson’s laughter was infectious, perhaps because of its singularity. George smiled in response, and Captain Singleton smiled too; then, turning to the doctor, the latter said—

“My dinner will be served in a few minutes, doctor. If you think it would not injure your patient, I will send him in something from my table.”

“Weel,” responded the doctor with the caution characteristic of his countrymen, “I’ll no’ commit mysel’ by any positeeve statement just; I’ll wait and see, since ye’ve been so vera kind as to ask me to dine wi’ ye. But I think I may venture to say that a wee drappie o’ soup will no’ hurt the chiel. And noo, wi’ your leave, captain, I’ll just tak’ the sma’ leeberty o’ turnin’ ye oot o’ your ain cabin, as there’s been an ample suffeecency o’ conversation for the present.”

The captain laughed good-naturedly, and turned, with a friendly nod to George, to leave the cabin. Doctor Pearson also turned to go, but paused for an instant to once more feel George’s pulse, and then, with an amiable grunt of satisfaction, he also walked out, saying as he went—

“Never fash your brains, my mon, by wonderin’ whaur ye are. Ye’re in guid han’s, ye may tak’ my word for it, and in guid time, when ye’re strong eneuch to talk, you’ll be told everything. Noo lie still, and keep your ’ees open for a few minutes, and I’ll see that ye hae a decent bit of dinner sent in til ye.”

The worthy doctor was as good as his word; a substantial basin of nourishing soup, with a small quantity of fresh, white, wholesome cabin-biscuit broken into it—“soft tack” was a comparatively unknown luxury at sea in those days—and a glass of port wine being brought in to George by the captain’s steward about ten minutes later; and, having demolished these, the patient once more dropped off to sleep, and passed a comfortable night.

Three days more of Doctor Pearson’s skilful treatment sufficed to put both George and Tom upon their pins once more, and then, and not until then, Captain Singleton asked of the former an account of the circumstances which had resulted in placing them in the desperate situation in which they had been found.

“Well,” said the captain at the conclusion of George’s story, “I heartily sympathise with you, Mr Leicester, in all that you have suffered, and I as heartily congratulate you on your plucky escape. It was rather a clever trick, the way in which those rascals took your ship from you, Imustsay that. It is a wrinkle which, possibly, I may some day play off in turn upon their own countrymen. By your description of them, I should say that the fellows were undoubtedly pirates; the sea swarms with them all round about here—indeed, we are now cruising for the purpose of putting a stop to their depredations, and were returning from an unsuccessful chase after a very suspicious-looking schooner when we picked you up. There is one craft in particular—a barque of undoubtedly English build—which we are most anxious to lay our hands upon; her crew are a peculiarly bloodthirsty set of ruffians, and have perpetrated an unusually large number of atrocities. By-the-bye, did you not say that your vessel was barque-rigged and a fast sailer? I should not be at all surprised to find that she is the identical craft we are so anxious to get hold of. Would you mind giving me a particular description of theAurora?”

George, of course, readily acceded to this request, detailing with seaman-like fidelity every peculiarity of hull and rigging. When he had finished, Captain Singleton said—

“Thank you. The set of the spars and rigging, and the cut of the canvas, does not coincide with the description with which I have been furnished; but your description of thehulltallies with mine in every particular, and I have not a doubt that it is the same vessel. And now, to turn to other matters, what do you propose to do with yourself when we land you at Kingston?”

“Well,” said George, “I scarcely know; but I suppose I shall endeavour to get a berth on board a homeward-bound ship, or work my passage home. There is nothing else that I can do, for I am absolutely penniless.”

“Well,” said Captain Singleton, “if a sufficient sum to defray the expenses of your passage home would be of any service to you, I dare say I could manage to raise such an amount, and you shall be heartily welcome to it.”

“Thank you, very much,” returned George; “but I could not possibly accept your exceedingly kind offer, even as a loan, for I could not be certain of ever being in a position to repay it. No, I shall have to get a berth of some kind.”

Four days after the above conversation the cruise of theHebeterminated, and on the day following George and Tom found themselves cast adrift, as it were, in the sandy streets of Kingston.

They were not absolutely penniless, however; for, in addition to a good serviceable suit of clothes apiece out of the slop-chest, Captain Singleton had insisted upon George’s accepting a ten-pound note, to meet their more immediate needs, and, being in a friendly port now, the two seamen had very little doubt of getting employment of some kind or other before long.

Their idea was first to make the round of the various shipping agents’ offices, and endeavour to obtain a berth on a homeward-bound ship. If that failed, then George thought they might possibly, aided by Captain Singleton’s influence, obtain work in the dockyard at Port Royal; and, if the worst came to the worst, they could always depend with absolute certainty upon being received on board a man-o’-war.

In pursuance of the first-mentioned plan, they were wending their way along the street, when, as they passed the entrance to a large general store, they were violently jostled by a man who was making his exit from the place with considerable precipitation.

“Beg pardon, shipmates, no damage done, I hope. I ought to have kept a better lookout when crowding sail to the extent—why—why—no, itcan’tbe; and yet—hang me if itain’t, after all. Well, thisisa pleasant surprise, and no mistake. Cap’n, how are ye? And you, Tom, how did them damned slave-drivers treat you?”

It was Mr Bowen, the late chief mate of theAurora. He was dressed in the somewhat rough garb of the mate of a coasting schooner, but was looking well and hearty nevertheless, and certainly had nothing of the appearance of a man who had recently been suffering the horrors of slavery.

George and Tom both shook hands heartily with their old friend, and then Mr Bowen—who seemed to be pretty well acquainted with the town—led the way into a quiet, respectable tavern near the water-side.

Having called for some sangaree in honour of the unexpected and very agreeable meeting, George, at his friend’s request, proceeded to recount all that had happened since the eventful morning when they were separated (for life, as each then feared) in the square at Havana. When he had finished the story, he added—

“And now, Bowen, my dear old friend, let us know howyoufared among the Dons.”

“Badly enough, cap’n, badly enough,” was the reply. “But you shall hear the whole story, such as ’tis. Maybe you happen to remember the chap as bought me—a tall, thin feller, with a nose like the beak of an eagle, and a wicked look in his glittering black eyes. Well, as soon as this here Don Christoval—that was his name—as soon as he’d bought all the slaves he wanted, we was all chained together, and started on a march to the south’ard. We travelled the whole width of that cursed island, taking two days over the trip, and was then shipped across in a little flat-bottomed sailin’-boat to the Isle de Pinos, where this here Christoval had a big ’baccy plantation. It took us a whole day, after we’d landed on the Isle of Pines, to reach the place, and on the following morning we were set to work.

“As it happened, I was the only white slave on the plantation, and, whether ’twas on this account, or whether ’twas because I was an Englishman, I can’t tell, but I soon found out that all hands, from Don Christoval downwards, had a special spite against me, and seemed determined to make the place as hot as they could for me. I was put to all the heaviest and dirtiest work about the place, and if there was a job that had to be done after knockin’-off time, I was the man that had to do it.

“There was nothing but Spanish spoke about the place, so I very soon got acquainted with the lingo, whether I liked it or not; and almost the first thing I understood was that Mr Don Christoval had boasted that, fierce as I was, he’d tame me so that in six months I wouldn’t dare to say my soul was my own.

“Well, you may be sure that my temper hadn’t grown much more amiable from being made a slave of, and this palaver abouttamingjust made me worse than ever. I vowed by all that was holy Iwouldn’tbe tamed, let ’em do what they would, and a pretty miserable time of it this stupid vow and my own obstinacy brought me. They used to amuse themselves by seein’ what they could do to rouse me; the overseers, as they were riding by, would pull up and begin to abuse and scoff at me, flicking at me with their whips all the time, and I dare say you know pretty well how clever those same overseers are with their whips—they’ll hit a fly twenty feet off. And when they’d see my eyes begin to sparkle, they’d just let out with the infernal whip, fetching me a regular ‘stinger’ across the shoulders, and gallop off, laughing. I can tell you, they made a regular devil of me before all was done.

“Well, one morning there was a regular rumpus on the estate. Don Christoval had sold some cattle the day before, and had been paid for ’em. The money was stowed carefully away by him when he turned in that night, and next morning ’twas gone—somebody’d crept into the house during the night, and had stole it. Well, as there was nobody about the estate but the regular hands, it was clear enough that some of these must have got hold of the cash, and the lying scoundrels had the impudence to say that I was the thief. They came down, two of the overseers did, and searched my hut fore and aft, from deck to keelson; but, of course, they didn’t find it, for the simple reason that I hadn’t took it. Hows’ever, they would insist that I knew where ’twas, and at last they dragged me up to the house, and told the Don that I’d took it, but that they couldn’t find it because I’d hid it away somewhere.

“The Don happened to be just starting off for a ride, and was mounted on a splendid black horse. He sat there in the saddle and listened to all that the overseers had to say, and when they’d finished, he spurred his horse at me, and swearing that he’d get the secret out of me, if he had to cut my heart out to find it, raised his heavy riding-whip, and made a slash at me.

“Well, cap’n, and Tom, old shipmate, you needn’t be told that I had already been made pretty savage by all this business, and when this hawk-nosed Don Christoval struck out at me, why, it just roused all the devil there was in me. I put up my hand—so—as if to ward off the stroke, and as the whip came down, I caught it in my hand, wrenched it out of the Don’s grasp, and, as quick as lightning, returned the blow with all my strength, lashing him fair across the face and cutting his cheek open. He reeled backwards in his saddle, and I, first letting out right and left at the two overseers, who stood one on each side of me, and bowling them over like a couple of ninepins, sprang upon him, seized him by the collar, and dragged him out of his saddle, and, leaping upon the frightened horse’s back, gave the poor brute a lash across the flank, which sent him flying down the road, through the ’baccy plants, and out upon the open country like a shot out of a shovel.

“Well, I don’t know that I’d ever been on horseback in my life before, but somehow I managed to stick to the saddle, it didn’t seem at all difficult, and on I went, straight ahead, as fast as the horse could gallop, for an hour or more, and then we fetched up somewhere on the shore. There was a schooner in the offing with the British flag flying at her gaff-end, and, as luck would have it, I’d just managed to hit the spot where a boat’s crew belonging to her were ashore, filling up their fresh water. I told the middy in charge who and what I was, and he shoved off at once with me, took me aboard, and told the lieutenant in command all about me; and, after knocking about with ’em for a fortnight, I landed here, just six months ago. And that ends my yarn.”

“And what have you been doing since then?” asked George, after congratulating Bowen on his escape.

“Well, cap’n,” was the reply, “I never once forgot the promise I made to you the day we were separated in Havana. I felt certain that you’d manage to get away somehow some day; and I felt just as certain that, sooner or later, you’d turn up here in Kingston. So, as soon as I was landed here, I made inquiries, and, not being able to learn that anything had been heard of you, I just looked about me a bit, and got a berth on board a little coaster, so’s to be on the spot whenever you might happen to turn up. I’d told our story pretty freely here in Kingston, so that, even if I’d happened to have been at sea at the time, there’s plenty of people that would have taken you in tow, and provided you with the needful until I came in again. Now that you’ve put in an appearance, of course I shall throw up my berth, and we’ll all sink or swim together.”

“Thanks, Bowen, thanks; that’s just like your disinterestedness,” answered George; “but what are we to do? The only thing I can see for it is to get berths, if possible, on board some homeward-bounder.”

“Homeward-bounder?” exclaimed Bowen with contemptuous emphasis, “why—but there, I suppose you don’t know anything about it, or you wouldn’t talk like that.”

“About what?” asked George, completely mystified.

“Why, about our prize that we took that dark night on the passage out—the privateer brig—theJeune Virginie. She’s lying down there at Port Royal, safe and sound, with a British crew on board her; and all you’ve got to do, cap’n, is to make your claim, and establish your identity, and the ship or her value will be handed over to you.”

“Is it possible?” exclaimed George. “Then we are lucky indeed. But you must explain the whole affair to me.”

“That’s easy enough,” answered Bowen. “The very first time I entered Port Royal harbour I saw the craft lying there, and knew her again at once. Thinks I to myself, ‘Now, Dick Bowen, my lad, your first duty is to recover possession of that prize on behalf of the skipper.’ So off I goes to the admiral, stated my case, and made my claim.

“‘That’s all very well, my fine fellow,’ says he, ‘and I don’t doubt but what you’re telling the truth; but, you see,’ says he, ‘you can’tproveit. Now Imusthave something beyond your bare word before I give up possession of the brig. When you can bring me something in the shape of proof that what you say is true, come to me again, and I’ll see what can be done in the matter.’

“Of course that was all right and straight-for’ard enough, so I went away, and troubled no more about it. The craft is safe enough; they’ve been using her as a cruiser, and taking care of her, and I don’t doubt but what she’s in just as good order as she was on the night when we took her. And now, all we’ve got to do is to go to the admiral again, and make our claim. There’sthreeof us this time, so that there’ll be no difficulty at all in getting her delivered over to us.”

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