And now conversation became more general. The danger being evidently over, one man hazarded a joke, something about a near shave, while another said it was a pity because they would have all this 'ere work to go over again.

Joe Cross heard the remark, and this started him talking, as he laid down his boat-hook and wiped his streaming face.

"Yes, Mr Rodd," he said, "you wanted to come farther up the river, and here you have had it. Well, I suppose when the flood's spread all over it will do same as they always does, begin to drain off again and carry us back. But I am afraid, Dr Robson, sir, that I must give up what I undertook to do."

"What?" cried the doctor.

"Ride back'ards, sir, and find the way out of this wet cat's-cradle of a place. I am very sorry, sir."

"Sorry!" cried the doctor cheerily. "My good fellow, what you have done during the last few hours has earned the lasting gratitude of us all."

"Has it, sir?" said the man, staring. "Why?"

"Haven't you saved all our lives," cried the doctor, "by your clever management of the boat?"

"Oh, that's what you mean, sir! But you must play fair, sir. You mustn't blame me for that. Part on it's my being on board a man-of-war; part on it's due to Captain Chubb. So you must thank him."

The doctor smiled, and noting this absence of anxiety, Rodd broke out with—

"I say, uncle, Morny's starving. Isn't it time we had something to eat?"

"Oh, Rodd!" cried Morny.

"Yes, of course," replied the doctor. "See what you can do, cook, at once. But surely, Cross, some of the men might lay in their oars?"

"Yes, sir, and if it goes on like this I don't see that we need let this flood keep on carrying us farther away. There's a nice wind, and not so much washed-out wood afloat. I am thinking I might have the sail hoisted and begin to sail back. But my word, look here: how we are widening out, sir! Look ahead yonder. It's getting 'most like a lake. Perhaps it is one."

"No," cried Rodd; "it's the river still. Look yonder at the forest right along the bank."

"Yes, sir, but I was looking at the forest on both sides here where we are. Why, we are running into another river. It aren't a lake, but it's ten times as big as this one that we've been spinning along, and— Well! it's a rum 'un! No; it's unpossible."

"What's impossible?" cried Rodd sharply, and all gazed at the sailor, who sat looking forward, holding on by one ear and scratching the other.

"Why, this 'ere, Mr Rodd, sir. Just you look, Dr Robson, and see what you think on it."

"Of what, my man?"

"Why, this 'ere, sir, what I am asking you of. Can't you see, Mr Rodd, sir?"

"I can see that we are gliding out of a muddy stream covered with green twigs and great tufts of jungle grass, into a big river flowing right across us and all thick with what seems to be a different-coloured mud."

"That's right, sir; and didn't you see that splash, just as far off as you could look?"

"No, Joe."

"Would you mind lending me that there glass of yourn, sir?" said Joe to the doctor, who passed the little field-glass to the man, whose hands trembled as he focussed it to suit his eye, and he once more stood up in the boat and swept the water as far as he could see.

"Thank you, sir," he said, handing it back. "Perhaps you would like to have a look yourself. But it's all right, gentlemen, and my lads. Them's crocs out yonder, and we have been washed out into the big river again with no more trouble; and if we don't see our brig and our schooner again before many hours, why, my name aren't Joe!"



CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

A KNOT IN THE NETWORK.

Incredulity was impossible, although at first it was very hard to believe. But there was the fact. They had been wandering through the sluggish network of streams of a vast tropic, marshy forest, until a tremendous storm in the hinterland had flooded the low country and they had been swept out again far away from the spot where the Spanish captain had guided them in, and, as they were soon to learn, for reasons of his own.

Without question they had descended some miles along the main river, which ran swiftly, burdened as it was by the waters of the flood, but not sufficiently to do more than raise it to a rather abnormal height. Still it was not safe to continue their journey downward by night, and in spite of the anxiety of all, the boat was moored to a huge tree up which the water had risen some three or four feet, and all anxiously watched for the coming of the next day. They slept but little, for there was so much to discuss, the doctor feeling now sure that when they missed the Spanish captain it must have been because when all were asleep he had stolen down to where the two blacks would be waiting for him with their canoe, and then gone on up the river beyond their camp.

"But I don't see quite what for, uncle," said Rodd.

"I do," cried Moray. "He knew the country so well, and our ignorance, which would make us go wandering helplessly about, while he knew of a nearer way out into this river again, through which we seem to have been providentially swept."

"That's right—quite right, Moray," said the doctor. "You see now, Rodd?"

"Yes, uncle, it's quite clear now. I wish I wasn't so dense. Do you see, Joe?"

"I didn't afore, sir; but it's all as clear as crystal now, and I should just like to explain it to the lads. My word, gentlemen! That chap's been running up a big bill again hisself, and when we get hold of him he'll have to pay!"

"What are you thinking of, Moray?" said Rodd, a little while after, while they were sitting listening in the darkness to the murmur of Joe's voice forward as he was explaining matters to the men.

"I was thinking," said Moray gravely, "of how long it would be before it is day."

The longest night comes to an end, and the breaking of that next day showed the river much sunken and pretty well at its normal tidal height; and with four men rowing steadily the boat glided downward, with the sun when it rose showing first one and then another landmark which seemed familiar; but after their one journey upward no one present could recall how far they were above the careening place.

Again and again as they passed round some great bend Moray rose from his seat, and, as Rodd afterwards told him, made them all miserable by gazing wildly downwards in the expectation of catching sight of the brig, or of seeing his father in his boat coming upward in search of the missing ones, who had quite outstepped the time that their stay was to last.

It was always the same; the poor fellow sank back into his place wearily, his countenance drawn and a look of despair in his eyes. At such times Rodd would watch his opportunity, steal his hand quietly along, and give Morny's arm a long and friendly grip, with the result that the dim eyes would brighten a little and dart a grateful glance in the English lad's direction.

The journey downwards seemed endless, and proved to be far longer than any one there anticipated. But just as the longest and darkest watch nights come to their end, so it was here, when, skimming along under sail, taking long reaches, for the wind was abeam, all at once Joe Cross, who was the first to see, sang out a loud and hearty—

"Ship ahoy!"

"Hah!" cried Morny. "Do you see the brig?"

"No, sir," replied the man, as Morny, the doctor and Rodd shaded their eyes and gazed down-stream; "I can't make out the brig."

"Oh, you don't half look," cried Rodd. "There's the Spanish schooner, and ours, and just beyond them, half hidden by the trees and land, there are the tops of the masts of the brig. Hurrah, Morny! She's all right, afloat, and—Here, what are you looking that way for?"

"Because I can't see her," said the French lad despairingly. "There is something wrong."

"Why, my dear old chap," cried Rodd, "you can't see well, because of the trees, but as we get farther out, there she lies, to the left, with her two masts as plain as plain."

"I can see those two masts you mean," said Morny sternly, "but they are low-down raking masts; the Dagobert's are much higher, and stand up stiffer than those. Do you forget she's square-rigged? Why, that's a schooner."

"So it is," cried Rodd. "I was deceived by the two yards on her foremast. But look here, it can't be another schooner. Captain Chubb may have been altering her rig when he got her upright again. Why, of course! It must be so. There can't be three schooners there. They must have had some accident to the brig's mainmast when they raised her again. Broke her topgallant, perhaps, and rigged her fore and aft."

"Not they, Mr Rodd, sir. Our old man would have cut a spar somewhere from the forest and rigged her square, if it was only a jury-mast. 'Sides, they'd got spare spars on board, same as we. That's another schooner. You can see her clearer now—a long low one, with masts that rake more than the Spanish skipper's vessel. Strikes me as we shall find that for some reason or another they haven't got the brig afloat."

"Another schooner, Joe?" cried Morny passionately. "The brig not finished? For some reason or another! What reason? What does it all mean?"

"Be calm, my lad; be calm," cried the doctor. "In a very little while we shall know the worst, or the best. Mind, we know nothing as yet. It is all suspicion. For aught we can say to the contrary, that man whom we have condemned may be innocent, misjudged by us, and now be lying at the bottom of the river where we missed him in that mysterious way."

Morny bowed his head and tried to look gratefully at the doctor; but his agony was too great, and he stood there till their boat had got to the end of its tack and swung round in the other direction, when with shaded eyes he gazed before him wildly, trying to get a view beyond where the three schooners could now be plainly seen, anchored in mid-stream.

But for some time the curvature of the river put this out of the question, and to break the painful silence the doctor said quietly—

"Another long low schooner, with raking masts. But it may be only another trader, anchored in company with the rest."

"Ah," cried Morny to Joe Cross, "you see something more than we do!" For the man, who was looking out from beyond the sail, suddenly gave a start and angrily slapped his thigh.

"Well, I'm very sorry, sir; but yes, I do. The brig's lying careened right over, just as she was when we started on our trip."

"But look here, Morny," cried the doctor; "that may mean nothing more than that she is not finished yet. Remember, to those we left we are missing, and in their anxiety about our lengthened stay they may have started up-stream to find us."

"You are saying this to comfort me," cried Morny passionately. "No, doctor; we have got to face the worst. It is not so."

It seemed cruelty to prolong the conversation, and soon after the order was given to lower the sail and unstep the mast, for the wind had pretty well dropped as they swept in towards where the vessels were anchored, and the distance being short, the men took to their oars once more, while, with no impediment to their view, the doctor took out his glass and offered it to Morny. But the lad made a quick gesture, and sat back looking straight before him, while the doctor used the glass himself, gazing with it first at the brig, about whose hull no one was visible, while all seemed still on board the three schooners.

"Take a look, Rodney," said the doctor aloud, as he handed the glass. "I can see nothing wrong."

Rodd eagerly took the glass, raised it to his eyes, and said quietly—

"Why, I can't see a soul on board the Sally, uncle, and the people on the other schooners must be asleep. They haven't seen us yet—Yes, they have!" he cried. "The men are hurrying up on our vessel from below, but—"

"But what, my boy?"

"I—I don't quite know, uncle. Something isn't right. Oh, Morny, what have I said?"

As the boy spoke he let the glass drop to the full length of his arm, and in all probability it would have fallen to the bottom of the boat had not Joe Cross caught it in his hand.

"May I look, sir?" he said sharply, and without waiting for consent, he raised it to his eyes and quickly scanned all three of the schooners in turn.

"It's no use beating about, gentlemen," he said sharply. "Something is wrong, for all three decks are swarming now with men like bees—wasps, I ought to say," he muttered, as he concentrated his gaze upon the Maid of Salcombe. "Our vessel, doctor, is in the hands of pirates, or slavers, and they are making ready the long gun. Now, my lads, look alive. Every man buckle on his arms and then load."

The oars were allowed to swing from the tholes, and the boat was left to glide slowly downwards, while in their smart orderly way her crew prepared for action.

"You will load too, gentlemen—with ball. Now, doctor, will you take command and lead us?"

"What to do?" asked the doctor.

"Why, to take our schooner again, sir. She's in the hands of an enemy."

"But is it possible that we can do this, Cross?" cried the doctor.

"I don't know, sir, for she's got a lot of men on board; but we have got to try."

"Stop. Let me think," said the doctor. "I am no man of war, and this is not in my way. If any unfortunate fellow were wounded I could do my best. But look here, my lads; you are nearly all men-of-war's men, and you, Morny, you are a naval officer. Seeing the odds before us, what is our duty here?"

"To fight," cried the young man passionately, through his clenched teeth.

"Ay, ay, sir!" came heartily from the men; and as the doctor turned his eyes inquiringly upon Rodd, who was fiercely ramming the second bullet upon the small shot already in the two barrels of his gun, he saw a look in the lad's face that he had never seen there before, and in spite of the pain of the situation, he felt a thrill of satisfaction running through his breast at the thought that, young as his nephew was, he was English to the core.

"Yes," said the doctor, "we must fight; but with such odds against us we must bring cunning to bear."

"Ay, ay, sir! That's right," cried Cross. "But perhaps, as we've got right on our side and only a set of mongrels before us, a good bold dash to board them will make us as strong as they. I say, sir, if you will let me lead, we will try and take our schooner, give them a broadside of bullets when we get close up, and then out steel and board her like men. Once over her side, there won't be many of them left on deck at the end of five minutes; and as soon as we have got her and the use of her guns, if we don't sink them other two pirates I have never been to sea."

"That's right, Joe," came in chorus, as, standing in the bows with one hand upon his gun, the other upon his right hip, he looked the very perfection of a British man-of-war's man, ready to lead or be led, wherever duty called.

Then, as if inspired by his appearance, the crew burst out into a ringing cheer, helped by the two lads, while the doctor took off and waved his straw hat as he joined in. Bang—thud!

A great grey puff of smoke started from the schooner's deck and a ball came skipping in their direction over the smooth stream.

"Well, I do call that too bad," cried Joe, as the men uttered a deep-toned "Yah-h-h!"

"Arter the way in which I cared for you and kept you clean, to go and behave like that!"

"Well, poor dumb beast," growled Briggs, "she don't know no better."

"Do you call that dumb?" cried Joe, merrily enough. "Well, I s'pose she was obliged; but I don't think much of their gunnery, messmates," continued the man, as he made use of the glass again. "Oh, they're all at work, sir, re-loading, and it will soon be our turn. I propose, sir, that we let them give us another shot, and then dash in before they have time to re-load. They won't hit us; will they, boys?"

"Not they!" came in chorus; but the next moment there was another report, and a smaller ball struck the water so near the boat that the spray was sent flying over them.

"They've got the two small guns to bear, sir," said Joe quietly, "and there's somebody aboard as knows how to aim."

He had hardly ceased speaking when there was another puff of smoke from the schooner's deck, accompanied by a whizzing, shrieking sound through the air just above their heads, while before they had glided with the stream another dozen yards there was a puff of smoke from the three-master's deck, followed directly after by a puff from the strange schooner, and as the reports of the two heavy guns were echoed from the great walls of verdure upon the river's bank, the air over their heads seemed full of shrieking missiles.

"Grape and broken iron," growled Joe Cross. "Take the tiller, Harry Briggs. Step the mast, my lads, and run up the sail. Don't take no notice of their shot. It don't do to go mad, even if we do want to fight. Don't go to sleep over it, boys. We are in the breeze again, and we must run into shelter and think."

A low growl came from the men as they rapidly obeyed orders, and not a man seemed to flinch as the long gun of the English schooner sent forth its heavy missile again, this time to strike the water some distance ahead and then rise and go crashing amongst the trees, whose leaves could be seen to come pattering down.

Three more shots came skipping over the river before the boat began to glide swiftly, under the pressure of her sail, and yells of derision came ringing from the enemy as they saw the effect of their fire and the effort being made to escape.

"Ah!" half sighed Rodd. "They've left off."

"Ay, sir," said the coxswain. "They know they can't hit us now we are flying through the water; and the worst of it is, they think we are afraid and that we English dogs are running away as hard as we can, with our tails between our legs. But they aren't, sir; they're a-standing up stiff and at right angles, as our old man calls it, to our backs; eh, messmates?"

"Ay, ay, Joe!" came from the crew, with a roar of laughter.

"And as for my teeth—our teeth, I mean—they are about as sharp as sharp. But we have got the wind with us, gentlemen, and we will just run up-stream and round the bend yonder, so as to get behind the trees just somewhere where we can keep watch with that there little spy-glass, and by and by we will have another try. This go they a'n't played fair, but next time we'll make 'em."

"How, Joe?" cried Rodd.

"Well, sir, my idea is to tackle 'em man to man when they can't use their guns. I mean when it's too dark for them to aim; and then we can drop down upon them, or sail up to them fore or aft or either side, and them not know where to have us. It won't be shooting then, but cold steel, as we know how to use. Well, think of that now!" cried the man, as the boat was now literally skimming over the surface. "Call myself a leader! Why, as true as I am here, I never once thought of firing a shot. Why, we might have given them one volley, messmates. I don't suppose we should have hit, with them behind the bulwarks, but we might have startled the beggars at the guns. Never mind; we have saved our gunpowder. A man must miss sometimes, and this has been a bad 'un. Next time, though, my lads, we must make it a hit."

The sailor ceased speaking, for his eyes had suddenly lighted upon Morny's face, and, as he afterwards said to Rodd, "Blest, sir, it sent a regular chill through me, for in all the hooroar of that job I forgot all about his father and our old man. But never say die, sir. They may have got away in one of the boats and be coasting along out to sea."



CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

FIREWORKS.

The boat was well run up out of reach and sight of the enemy, a spot being selected where by a little manoeuvring beneath the shade of an overhanging tree a few boughs could be pressed aside and a watch kept upon the movements of those on board the schooners, in case of their boats coming in pursuit, or, what was quite probable, one or other of the vessels heaving anchor and coming up with the tide.

But the time wore on without any sign being made, and as far as could be made out through the glass, the Spaniards seemed to be quite content with beating off the attack, and from their movements they had apparently come to the conclusion that they had seen the last of the occupants of the boat.

But they did not know the temper of those on board, nor that a quiet little council of war had been going on, till, feeling the necessity for the men being properly prepared ready for any fresh attempt, the doctor suggested that a substantial meal should be made; and this was partaken of with a far better appetite than could have been expected. More than one plan had been suggested regarding the next proceedings. One was that they should steal down the river under cover of the darkness and go in search of their friends; another, that an attempt should be made, when the tide was flowing most swiftly, to cut the cables, in the hope that the vessels might drift ashore; but Joe Cross disposed of this directly as not likely to be of any permanent advantage, and declared that there was only one thing to be done, and that was, to follow up with another bold attempt to board.

"You see, gentlemen," he said, "we never had a chance to get within touch of the Spanish mongrels. I don't want to brag, but with a fair start there aren't one of our chaps here as wouldn't take a good grip of his cutlass and go for any three of them; eh, messmates?"

"In an or'nary way, Joe," said Harry Briggs.

"Well, this is an or'nary way, messmate."

"Nay; I call this a 'stror'nary one."

"Well, speak out, messmate, and say what you mean."

"Well, same as you do, Joe, only I put it a little different. Win or lose, I'd go in for tackling three of them in an or'nary way, but I says this is a 'stror'nary one, and you may put me down for six, and if I get the worst of it, well, that'll be a bit of bad luck. But anyhow I'd try."

"And so say all of us," came from the rest.

"Well," said Joe, laughing, "I never knew afore that I was the most modest chap in our crew."

"Oh, I have no doubt about your courage, my lads," said the doctor, "nor that my nephew here, though he is a boy, will fight like a man; but if we are to do any good we must work with method against such great odds. So now, Cross, let us hear what you propose to do."

"Try again, sir—in the dark—and play a bit artful."

"But how?" cried Rodd eagerly.

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr Rodd. I proposes that we just show ourselves once or twice towards evening, and then make a dash right across the river to hide again among the trees. That'll set 'em all thinking and asking one another what our game's going to be. Then we will lie up till it's dark, up with the grapnel, and steal quietly down the river, keeping pretty close to the trees, till we are about opposite the enemy, and then we'll make a mistake."

"Make a mistake?" said Rodd. "I don't understand you."

"Well, sir, I aren't done yet. What I mean is, have an accident like; one of us sneeze, or burst out a-coughing, and me break out into a regular passion, calling him as coughed a stoopid lubber and a fool for showing the enemy where we are. It will be best for me to be him as coughs or sneezes, and do it all myself so as not to have any muddle over it. Then I shouts out, 'Pull for your lives, boys—pull!' And we makes no end of splashing as we goes on down the river, and all the time as supposing that it's going to be dark enough so as they can't fire at us. Then it seems to me, Dr Robson, sir, that the enemy will say to theirselves, 'They want to get out to sea, and they are gone,' while as soon as we have got a bit lower down we'll lie up under the trees and wait till about an hour before daylight, and all as quiet and snug as so many rats. They'll think they have got rid of us, and all the while we shall be waiting our time to steal up again right by 'em and begin to come down once more from where they don't expect; and then—board."

"Hah!" cried Rodd. "Capital!"

"You see, gentlemen, it'll all have to be done as quiet as quiet, for they're sure to have a watch set. I know what out-and-outers they are to sleep, but it's too much to expect that they will have both eyes shut at a time like this. One way or t'other we shall have the tide with us, but even if we don't I think it might be managed, and anyhow we shall have no big guns at work upon us, and watch or no watch we'll manage to lay this 'ere boat alongside of our schooner, and if any one says anything again' our getting aboard, I should like to know why, and if we do get aboard I don't think it's in the schooner's new crew to drive us back again into the boat. There, gentlemen, that's all I know, and if some one else—the doctor here, or Mr Rodd, or Mr Morny, who is a French naval officer—can give us a better way, I'll follow anywhere, and I know the lads will come after me like men."

There was silence for about a minute, and then the doctor coughed, drawing all eyes upon him.

"There is no better way," he said. "It's a splendid plan."

A murmur of assent arose, and Joe Cross looked quite modest.

"But it will be some time yet before we can make our attempt," said the doctor; "and how are we to pass the weary time till then?"

"Oh," said Joe cheerily, "we can watch these 'ere great smiling efts till then. They seem to be sailing about and watching us as if they'd got some sort of an idea that they were to have us to eat by and by, which I don't mean that they shall. And then there'll be making the false starts. I think, sir, as we'll make one or two, as if we was half afraid to make a dash for it, and that'll draw their fire."

"But suppose they hit us, Joe," cried Rodd.

"Oh, we must chance that, sir. They can't hit us. They couldn't hit a hay-stack in a ten-acre field; let alone a boat being pulled hard across stream. That'll be all right."

And so it proved when Joe Cross put his tactics into force, making the men row out into the river, and then ordering them to lie on their oars, while Rodd watched the schooner's decks and announced that some of the men were busy about the guns and all crowding to the bulwarks to watch the proceedings of the boat.

Then a feint was made in one direction, then in another, and at last Joe stood up in the stern, to begin gesticulating to the men, as if bullying them into making a bold dash to row swiftly down as near the farther shore as they could go.

A minute later two puffs of smoke from different vessels shot out into the clear evening air, the balls ricochetting from the water in each case a few yards away. Then, with the men pulling as hard as ever they could, the boat's head was swung round, and rowing diagonally across the stream they made for the shelter of the shore from which they had come, the sail was hoisted, filled, and away they went till they were right round the bend and the anchored schooners were out of sight.

"There, Mr Rodd, sir, what did I tell you?" cried Joe triumphantly. "I knew they couldn't hit us. Chaps like them ought never to be allowed to handle a gun."

"Well, my man," said the doctor, "if the rest of your plan will only succeed like this we shall achieve a victory."

"Nay, nay, sir; only a little boat action. There, my lads, now we'll have a rest. They're sure to think we have gone right up the river."

"But they may send boats to follow us," suggested Rodd.

"Certainly, sir, they may; but I don't think they will. They won't come to close quarters so long as they have got bulwarks to fight from behind and the guns to tackle us when we show. They think that we can't face the pieces. Well, I don't say as we are very ready to when there's another way round, but we haven't got long to wait before we must make another move, for the sun's down behind the trees, and I shouldn't be sorry if it was to come on a fog."

But no fog came, only darkness the blackest of the black, and the few stars that peered out only looking strangely dim.

The wind had fallen soon after the sail had been lowered and the mast laid well out of their way. One of the balls of spun yarn they had in the locker had been brought into use, cut into lengths, and the oars secured so that they could not slip away when they were left to swing, and at last under cover of the night the next part of Joe's programme was begun.

It was harder work than had been anticipated, for though the current close in shore was slack, it was very difficult to keep at a respectable distance from the bank as they glided down-stream, while every now and then there was a swirl in the water suggesting that one of the great reptiles had been disturbed.

But still the adventurers progressed, and their leader was keenly on the alert, looking out for the lights of the anchored vessels, ready to raise his false alarm as soon as he got abreast.

But he looked in vain; the Spaniards had taken the precaution to cover their riding lights, and Joe Cross was about to draw his bow at a venture, when a sharp shock which made the boat thrill suggested that they had struck upon a floating tree trunk, washed probably out of the bank during the past flood.

But the next moment they were aware that the boat's stem had come in contact with one of the crocodiles, which gave a tremendous plunge and began to send the water flying in all directions as it beat heavily upon the surface with its tail.

"Starn all!" roared Joe Cross involuntarily, and then recollecting himself, he roared out, "Pull, lads! Pull for your lives!" For a light suddenly appeared some thirty or forty yards to their left, followed by another lower down the river.

There was the buzz of voices upon the anchored vessels' decks, and Joe kept on yelling wildly to the men to pull, the noise and excitement being increased by the reports of muskets fired at them in a hurried ungoverned way, the flashes of light giving them faint instantaneous glimpses of the vessels and the faces of the men on board.

"Steady, my lads, steady! Ease off," said Joe, "gently. We have got to come back again, you know, so we needn't go too far. Two or three cables' lengths is plenty. How do you think we're getting on, sir?"

"Is it possible they may come in pursuit?" whispered the doctor.

"Nay, sir, I don't think it's likely. If it was us aboard those schooners we should think that we—meaning us—there, sir—you know what I mean—we should think t'other side was making for the sea. Well, that's what they think, and now, sir, if they'll only show their lights for the rest of the night, why, so much the better for we."

"I don't see why, Joe," said Rodd, after a few minutes' thought.

"Well, I'll tell you, my lad," whispered Joe.—"Steady there—steady! I am going to lower down the grapnel, for I dursen't run in among the trees. They'd crackle too much if we tried to moor to a branch, and we don't want to capsize. Harry Briggs, look alive, and drop the flukes overboard; make fast, and let us swing."

This was all done almost without a sound, and just then a faint gleam of light as the boat swung round showed them that certainly one of the anchored vessels was still showing her light, while as it swung round a little farther there were a couple more gleams higher up, as of distant stars.

"That's all right, gentlemen. Now, Mr Rodd, sir, I haven't answered your question. Here's just enough breeze blowing to make me alter my plans, so after a bit we'll step the mast again and have the sail ready for hoisting, for we shall be able, with the lights to guide us, to sail close up under the farther shore and come down again from just the way they don't expect, run the boat alongside our schooner, and then one on us will hold on by the boat-hook, while with the rest it's all aboard, and the schooner's ours."

That night seemed to Rodd almost as long, at times longer than the one he had passed in the tree. But here it certainly was shorter, as he afterwards declared, for about a couple of hours before daylight Joe whispered his belief that they had none of them heard the slightest sound from the direction of the lights, that if any one on board the schooner's deck would be sleeping it would be then, and that they must start at once.

There was no question of all being ready, and at the whispered orders Harry Briggs hauled softly upon the grapnel line, while very slowly and silently the yard ran up the little mast, and the boat began to careen over as the sail filled.

Then with Joe Cross at the tiller she began to glide up-stream, the grapnel was lifted on board without a sound, and silently and steadily they began to cross the river diagonally till they were as near as the steersman dared lay the little craft to the farther shore.

Under his skilful management all went well, and so silently that nothing but the faint pattering lap of the water against the bows could be heard.

To the two lads, though, that sounded unusually loud, as they crouched down involuntarily but quite unnecessarily lower and lower in the boat lest they should be seen, the light hoisted in each schooner seeming bound to show the white sail to the watch of each vessel in turn.

But no alarm was raised; not a sound reached the adventurers, and to Rodd it seemed as if, after terrible periods of agony, three heavy loads had been lifted from his breast. He wanted to whisper a few words to Morny, who all through had been seated by his side, but nothing but the pressure of hand upon arm passed between them, while they could hardly hear the doctor breathe.

At last, though, that period of the terrible suspense was at an end, and the third light they had passed, that of the Maid of Salcombe, was beginning to grow fainter, and being left behind.

"Now, what next?" thought Rodd. "How much longer shall we have to wait before the attack is made?"

The answer came very shortly after, for Joe Cross bore lightly upon the tiller, sent the boat gliding round in a wide circle which ended by bringing the three mooring lights they had left behind all in a line, and then as they began to glide down-stream he whispered—

"It's now or never, sir.—Cutlashes, my lads; in five minutes we shall be alongside. You, Harry Briggs, shy the grapnel on deck and make fast; we shall soon be all aboard. Then come and help us all you can."

There was a low deep breath like a thrill passing through the boat, a peculiar sound of movement which Rodd knew was the men drawing their cutlasses, and then as his heart went heavily thump, thump, thump within his breast, he felt that two hands were seeking for his, and as he raised it towards the right it was grasped firmly a moment by Uncle Paul's, and the next moment, as it was released, by that of Morny.

It was short work, for the boat was gliding steadily down, and directly after the lad felt Joe Cross bending over him.

"She's just right, sir," he whispered. "Ketch hold of the tiller, and keep her as she is. I must go for'ard now to lead."

The boat swayed a little as the man stepped between his mates to the front. Then as soon as the distance was considered right a light rattling sound was heard, and Rodd was conscious of the sail being lowered, though he could see nothing of it, while almost the next minute there was a faint shock as the boat glided against the side of the schooner.

Then Joe Cross's cry, "All aboard!" rang out, followed by a stentorian cheer, and amidst the rush and hurry the tiller slipped from the boy's hand and he was climbing over the thwarts to spring into the fore-chains. Then he tottered as if about to fall back into the boat, but a big hand grasped him by the shoulder, steadied him for a moment, and then he was with the little party dashing side by side into what seemed to be a chaos of savage yells and shrieks which rose in wild confusion from the gang of Spaniards who had sprung up from their sleep, where they lay scattered about the deck.

English shouts to come on, Spanish yells, wild mongrel cries, a shriek or two of despair, a heavy plunge followed by another and another, savage blows, and utterances such as fierce men make in the wild culmination of their rage; then plunge after plunge in the water alongside and astern, the splash of swimmers, strange lashings about in the river, followed by shrieks and gurgling cries, and then, heard over all, the combined voices of so many stout Englishmen in a fierce—

"Hurrah!"

"Now then, all of you," shouted Joe Cross. "There's a lot of them down below. Close that cabin hatch. Two on you to the fo'c'sle; serve that the same. If you run against anybody in the dark, tell the beggar he'll be safer overboard than here."

But there proved to be no one below in the men's quarters, and after making quite sure the two men returned to their comrades. Then—

"Where's Mr Rodd?" shouted Joe.

"Here, Joe," came out of the darkness.

"Mr Morny?"

"I'm here," came in a breathless voice.

"And the doctor?"

"Helpless, Joe. My ankle's sprained."

"Bad luck to it," cried the man. "Where's Harry Briggs?"

"All right, mate," came in a gruff surly voice; "but you needn't have been in such a hurry to get it done."

"Hurry?" cried Joe. "Why, it's only just in time. Later than we thought. It's getting light. Now then, who else is hurt?"

There was a growl or two, and Joe shouted again—

"Is any one killed? Bah! Won't say so if he is! What about that boat, Harry?"

"She's fast enough, messmate."

"Hah! That's right. Now then, hold hard a moment. Hear 'em aboard the other boats?"

The question was unnecessary, for shouts and yells for help were evidently rising from men who had swum down-stream to the sides of their consorts, and ceased as they were dragged on board. But a low buzzing murmur kept on, as from a couple of wildly-excited crowds.

Then a sharp shrill voice began giving orders in Spanish, one being followed up with a pistol shot, which was succeeded by a yell and a partial cessation of the buzz of excitement that sounded as if coming from a swarm of human hornets.

"That was the Spanish captain's voice, I am sure," cried Rodd.

"Eight, sir," shouted Joe. "I'd swear to it. Well, he's getting part of his dose. Oh, if it wasn't so dark! Big gun's crew!" he cried. "Is the tackle with her?"

"Ay, ay!" came in answer, after a short bustle of movement, in which trained men took their places.

"Here, run the rammer down her throat, my lads. She may be loaded."

There was the sound of the stout ash staff passing down the bore of the gun, and the answer came—

"Right!"

"Good," replied Joe. "Lower down that light. We must use that—if we fire. But we want fresh charges, and there will be no more here."

There was a quick search made, but without result, and Joe Cross stood silent for a few moments.

"Well," cried the doctor, "why don't you send below, to the magazine?"

"Cabin hatch is closed, sir, and some of the slavers are below. This way, my lads—cutlashes. We must have them out."

"Of course!" cried Rodd excitedly, and Morny uttered a suppressed hiss, as he pressed forward, sword in hand.

"Yes, gentlemen," said Joe; "it's their doing, and they must chance the crocs, for we must clear the vessel before it's broad day."

At that moment there was a crashing sound as if the cabin hatch was being forced open, and as Joe Cross, followed by the rest, dashed aft, there was a yell, a rush, and some eight or ten of the mongrel enemy forced their way on deck, to be met at once by the schooner's crew, who charged at them as men-of-war's men know how to charge.

There was a short encounter, the clash of steel against steel, and the fresh-comers who had taken refuge below began to give way, and in a couple of minutes more the deck was once more cleared, the splashing and plunging of swimming men making for the rapidly dimming light of the next schooner being followed by more blood-curdling yells and groans, mingled with cries for help, while a few minutes later a boat could be faintly seen and efforts were evidently being made to drag the swimmers on board.

"Now then for the gun!" cried Joe.

"What are you going to do?" asked Rodd, who with Morny kept close to the coxswain's side.

"Fight, sir," replied Cross fiercely, "before they begin to fight us. See to the other guns, my lads. The way's open to the magazine now. It'll be light directly, and that Spanish skipper won't leave us long before he begins.—There, what did I say?"

For all at once the meaning of the Spaniards' orders, enforced by a pistol shot, was explained by a bright flash, the roar of a heavy gun, and the whistle of a shot just over the speaker's head.

A dead silence now fell for a few moments upon the deck of the Maid of Salcombe. There was a little bustle of preparation, and then a period of waiting, during which Joe Cross carefully sighted the loaded gun, depressing her muzzle all he could, the two lads the while listening excitedly to the stir and orders which came from the Spanish three-master's deck.

"Oh, fire, Joe—fire!" whispered Rodd. "We shall have another shot from her directly."

"Yes, my lad, I know; but I want to make sure of a little more light.—Fire!" he said, directly afterwards.

A spark was seen to sink at once upon the touch-hole of the long gun, there was a deep roar as she seemed to leap from the deck, a heavy instantaneous crash, and then a return shot which went wide of their schooner.

"You've hit, Joe," cried Rodd excitedly, as he stood amidst the smoke, which began to spread about where they gathered.

"Yes, sir, I hit," said the man, with a half-laugh, as the crew of the gun busied themselves sponging out and preparing to re-load. "They pretty well filled her to the muzzle, but they got what they meant for us. But hallo! what's the meaning of this 'ere? What's the matter with us now?"

Only this, that the Maid of Salcombe was adrift and threatening, if something were not done to bring her up, to drift ashore not far from where the faint morning light revealed the brig lying right over on her side as helpless as any hulk.

Joe Cross, closely followed by the lads, ran forward to the bows, Rodd one side, Joe and Morny the other.

"Why, the cable must have broke adrift," cried the coxswain, leaning over, to see that the great rope was hanging down straight from the starboard hawse-hole.

"Cut, Joe, cut," shouted Rodd. "Quick! Look out!" For as he had leaned over the bulwarks just above the larboard hawse-hole, a great swarthy mulatto, knife in hand, was climbing up, and as soon as he caught sight of the lad he made for him at once.

Rodd stood upon his guard and managed to strike aside the thrust made at him by the mulatto; but the latter was lithe and active as a monkey. He struck at the boy again, and as Rodd gave way the fellow threw himself on to the rail and sprang over, but only to be cut down by Joe Cross, who had answered the boy's call.

It was the saving of Rodd's life, but the mulatto was dangerous still, and recovering himself he made a dash at Morny, who stepped aside, while, with all the ferociousness of a Malay running amok, the man sprang aft, avoided two or three cuts made at him by the sailors, and then plunged over the side, to begin swimming towards the three-master, which was in the act of sending another shot at the doctor's vessel.

This one crashed through the bulwarks, sending the splinters flying in all directions, and making the coxswain shout to his men to stand firm, as, seeing their perilous position, he hurried to their help, for the big schooner had slipped her cable, a sail had been run up, and she was beginning to answer her helm, while the Maid of Salcombe was drifting helplessly towards the shore.

It was a choice between hoisting sail and letting go another anchor while the chance was there, as the two vessels forged slowly ahead preparing to send in another shot.

This latter in his excitement Joe Cross essayed to do, striking their enemy just at the water-line as she passed them, while now the slaver's sister craft began firing as she too, hoisting sail, was coming up-stream.

"Ah!" panted the sailor, as he turned to Uncle Paul. "Here's your peaceful schooner, sir, as trades in palm-oil! Why, they are pirates and slavers, sir, and I've done it now. Too late, my lads—too late!" he cried to the men, who had let go the other anchor. "Nothing can save us now. We are going ashore."

"Oh, don't give up, man," cried the doctor angrily.

"I won't, sir. None of us will; but—There, I said as much. We just touched bottom then. There she goes again! And in another minute we shall be fast in the mud, and they'll have nothing to do but powder away at us till we are a wreck. Slew that there gun round, boys, and let's give her another shot or two while there's a chance."

"No, no," cried Rodd. "Not at that! Fire at the other. Can't you see, Joe? Uncle! Morny! The three-master's going down!"

It was quite true, for the first shot from the Maid of Salcombe, that sent from the long gun, crammed as Joe had said almost to the muzzle, had torn into the slaver just below water-line. The second had been just as effective in its aim, the water had been pouring in ever since, and now, as she was evidently settling down by the head, her guns were forsaken, all discipline was at an end, and her crew had made a rush for the boats, which were soon after overcrowded and being pushed off by their occupants to make for the third schooner. This last, fairly well managed, came slowly on, firing from time to time at the English craft, which, had now swung round upon her heel and lay bowsprit to the shore in a falling tide.

As far as was possible her guns were slewed round, and a steady reply to the enemy's fire was kept up; but her doom seemed to be sealed, the Spaniard being able to choose her own position, while minute by minute the English vessel was getting more helpless.

"Well, gentlemen, what's it to be?" said Joe, as he stood coolly wiping the blackened perspiration from his forehead.

"Keep on firing to the last," said the doctor sternly. "Better die like men than surrender and be murdered, for after what has passed there can be no mercy here."

"That's right, sir," said the man, "but there's the young gentlemen, and we don't any of us want to die if we can help it."

"Why, you are not beaten, are you, Joe?" cried Rodd fiercely.

"Not a bit of it, sir, but here's our schooner, and there's Mr Morny's brig. It's no use to make an ugly face over a nasty dose. We are beaten, and nothing that we could do could keep that slaver from seeing that she's won."

"Go on firing, and sink her," cried Rodd. "Look at the other one," and he pointed to the three-master, whose decks looked as if they were awash.

"Well, sir, that's what we have been trying to do; but she won't sink. How so be, here goes, my lad, for another try, and—What's the meaning of that?"

For all at once through the smoke that rose from the schooner they could see that something fresh had taken place—what, they could not make out, but it was something important, and one of the enemy's smaller guns was fired in the other direction.

"Why, there must be help coming from down the river," cried the doctor excitedly. "Yes, hark at that!"

For in reply to the schooner's gun a desultory series of musket shots began to ring out, and encouraged by this and the knowledge that help must be at hand, the little English crew sent forth a cheer, dragged the long gun more and more round, and sent one of the most successful shots they had fired crash into the enemy's stern.

To the astonishment of all, the firing on board the enemy ceased; another sail was run up, and as it filled the schooner swung round upon another tack and began to sail steadily down the river, clearing the way for those on board the English vessel to see a couple of well-manned boats being rowed steadily up-stream, with men in the stern-sheets keeping up a musketry fire.

"Quick!" shouted Moray. "Another shot! Friends! Friends!"

"Yes, sir," said Joe quietly, "but I don't see how it's to be done. Yes, we might do it from a little gun;" and he ran with a part of the crew to try and slew her round.

"No good, gentlemen," he said. "By the time we can get a shot off we shall risk hitting those boats, whatever they are, and they are coming to our help. Here, hasn't anybody got a glass?"

"No," cried Rodd; "it was left in the boat."

"Well, there's one in the cabin. Here, one of you run down."

"No, no," cried Morny excitedly; "they're our boats. Look! That's my father in one," he cried hysterically.

"And if that aren't our old man in the other my name aren't Joe Cross!"



CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT.

THE HELP THAT CAME.

In those brief few minutes despair and dogged determination were turned into the mingled emotions of triumph and delight, for the two boats, after giving two or three volleys at the schooner, whose crew contented themselves with hoisting a couple more sails to increase their speed, came on as hard as the men could row, their crews cheering in French and English with all their might, while in the stern of one the Count stood up waving his cap; in that of the other Captain Chubb, looking grim and stern, stood like a statue, his left foot on the thwart before him, his right resting upon the muzzle of a musket.

"Here, I don't feel as if I'd got a cheer left in me, lads," cried Joe Cross to his tired companions on board the stranded schooner; "but we must give them one, or they'll think we aren't much obliged to them for coming, and there's no gammon about it, we are, and no mistake."

"Cheer, yes!" cried Rodd. "With all your might, my lads. Take your time from me. Now then, as you never cheered before—Hooray!"

There was no want of heartiness either in that or in those which followed, to be returned as enthusiastically from the two boats, which were rapidly nearing, so that in a few minutes Rodd and his uncle were wringing the hands of the bluff old skipper, while it was observable that all three kept their backs to the French Count and his son till they came up together, when the three started round in surprise, going through a curious kind of pantomime as if they were astonished to see the Frenchmen there.

Meanwhile a regular fraternisation had gone on between the crews, and after a mere glance at the three masts of the schooner, which were standing out of the water about a couple of hundred yards away, the skipper's whole attention was directed to their own vessel, whose keel was now fast in the mud, and which was beginning to heel over slightly.

"Then I suppose you took her again, doctor?" he said gruffly.

"Well, hardly," said Uncle Paul. "It was Cross and the lads who did that."

"More shame to him, then," growled the skipper. "I should have thought you were seaman enough, Joe Cross, to have kept her afloat and not run her aground like this."

"Well, I do call that ungrateful," cried Rodd. "I say, uncle, oughtn't he to have saved the schooner from being taken?"

"That's one for me, doctor," said the skipper, with a grim smile and a twinkle in his eye. "The boys of this here generation seem to grow up pretty sharp. But he's quite right. They pretty well caught a weasel asleep that time."

"But how was it?" cried Rodd.

"How was it, my lad? Why, we was hard at work one morning, when up the river comes another of them nice respectable schooners in the oil trade. Oil trade, indeed! Rank slavers, that's what they were, carrying on trade with one of those murderous chiefs up country! Set of black Satans as attack villages and carry off the poor wretches to sell to your oil traders for sending off to the plantations. Well, one don't like killing fellow-creatures, or seeing them pulled down below by the crocs, but somehow I don't feel so very uncomfortable about them as we had to fight with and have got the worst of it. What are you smiling at, young Squire Rodd?"

"I was only thinking how you always hated the slave trade, captain."

"Right," said Captain Chubb, with a friendly nod. "Well, the schooner sends her skipper aboard the three-master. Then he comes to where I was busy at work with the men, putting the finishing touches to the brig, and tells me and the Count a long tale about his having come up to join his friend the Spanish captain, who he hears has gone up the river for a row. Then he goes back to his schooner, makes her snug, and it seemed as if him and his men had all gone to sleep, when it was me."

"You?" cried Rodd wonderingly.

"Well, what they call metyphorically, my boy, for I was wide awake enough; but I couldn't see anything beyond the Dagobert, nor the Count neither, for he wanted her afloat. Then the time went on, and all very quiet, till just in the middle of one of the hottest days when I was in full feather, thinking that I could tell the Count that night that the job was done, and we could let her sit the water again next day when the tide served, all at once we had a surprise. There were only four or five men aboard the schooner, and I suppose they were keeping their watch, but just all at once a couple of boats rowed up to them, one from one schooner, one from the other, and before any of us knew what was up, our fellows were swimming for the shore, and if it hadn't been for the Count, who was on the look-out for crocs, and let them have two barrels twice over, neither of the poor fellows would have joined their mates as had been working with me."

The speaker turned to the Count, who nodded his head quickly, and then looked at his son as much as to say, Yes, this is quite true.

"Well," continued the skipper, "I felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of me, and as soon as I could speak and quite understand that my schooner had been took, I began to bully-rag the poor lads who had just escaped with their lives, for, not having time to get a gun or a cutlass, they had been almost as helpless on board as they were in the water among them reptiles. I couldn't even believe it then, and began questioning the lads, and you might have knocked me down with a feather, as people say, and the Count there with another, when they all swore that our Spanish skipper had led the men from his three-master in one of the boats. Then we began to see the worst."

The skipper turned with a questioning look at the Count again, to receive a second grave nod, while this time the latter laid his hand upon his son's shoulder, and a long eager glance passed between them.

"Well, I don't know that I have much more to say," said the skipper, "only that it was a bad job, being a fresh one we had got to tackle and meant to do. The Count here fitted me and my lads up with some weepuns, and we settled that as soon as it was dark we'd man two of the brig's boats, and board first one and then the other of the two schooners. Well, we tried, but they were waiting for us, and I don't know how we escaped, for they met us with such a fire that if we had kept on both boats must have been sunk, and we never got within touch of either of the enemy, but drifted down with the tide; and somehow just then I suppose there must have been a flood somewhere up the river, down came the water in a way that we couldn't meet, and it was only by pretty good seamanship on the part of the Frenchmen more than ours, though we helped all we knew, that we were able to keep afloat; and since then we have been right down to the sea, and it's been very hard to get enough to eat. But somehow we managed to keep alive, shooting what we could and catching a fish or two now and then as we came up the river again. For of course we were not going to give up without finishing our job; and it seems to me that we got here just at the right time, and found that things weren't half so bad as we thought; eh, Count?"

"My friend," replied the latter, "how can I ever repay you?"

"Oh, let's talk about that, sir, when I have done something to keep the Maid of Salcombe upright and finished my other job and the brig's afloat, which it seems to me we can manage at high water; but I never bargained for having our schooner to set right too through the lubberly management of that chap Joe Cross. There," he cried angrily, "I can't and won't say another word till I have had something to eat, for we are all half starved."

"Get on board the schooner, then, every one," cried the doctor, "for I have got my work here."

It was a fact, for now the fight was over the men began to stiffen, and several unexpectedly turned faint, it proving that though not a single man was seriously wounded, nearly every one of those who had followed Joe Cross in his gallant achievement of boarding the schooner, and in beating down the slaver's crew when they forced their way out of the cabin, was more or less injured and had been doing his best to hide the knife stabs and contusions he had received.

It was during the next two or three days that the doctor proved that he was in his element, and that his knowledge of natural history was not confined to his ordinary scientific pursuits, for no surgeon could have been more skilful in his treatment of wounds, no physician more able in alleviating the fever which supervened.

It was a busy time for all, for not only was there the grounded schooner to guard from going over, but strict watch to keep for the return of enemies, and then, when the high tide served, all hands were at work, save the poor disappointed fellows whose injuries kept them to their bunks, in raising the brig to her old proud position. As she floated out, herself once more, and dropped anchor in the stream, the men literally yelled themselves hoarse, while on the following day at the Count's request both vessels were dropping down with the tide, all on board eager to leave behind the river, which in spite of its many beauties was too full of painful recollections for its waters to be recalled without horror and disgust.



CHAPTER FORTY NINE.

THE COUNT'S APPEAL.

The south-west coast of Africa was fading away in the distance as the two consorts with their natural history seekers rode over the dazzling silver sea. The lads were abaft the schooner's wheel, quite inseparable now, looking down through the eddying water at the fish, which seemed to have taken the swift vessel for some mighty companion of their own nature, in whose wake they could swim along in peace without fear of lesser enemies.

About an hour before, the brig's gig had brought the Count and his son alongside the schooner, and the former was below in the doctor's museum-like laboratory, listening to his learned friend's remarks upon some fresh object that, now they had returned to the ways of peace, had been fished up from just below the surface of the sea.

Four of the schooner's crew were under an awning, lying upon a couple of doubled-up spare sails which had been spread upon the deck, and the two lads had been seated with them chatting for some little time before they strolled aft.

"How well your men look," Morny said suddenly—"all except Joe Cross."

"Yes, he looks rather thin and pale, doesn't he?" said Rodd quickly; "but he isn't ill. You saw how full of fun he was, and ready to joke about having been bled too much. Uncle says he'll soon be well again, for he's in such good spirits. But uncle told me quietly that it was a wonder to him none of the poor fellows were killed. But oh, I say, isn't this nice!"

"Lazy," said Morny.

"Oh, I don't call it lazy. It's so jolly to be able to hang about in the sunshine without feeling that there's some great trouble coming on directly."

"Ah, yes," replied Morny, with a sigh, "and that perhaps you may not live to see me next day."

"Well," said Rodd, "I don't think it's lazy. Uncle says that after you have been at work very hard it's like unstringing the bow; and so it is. I want to begin fishing or dredging or sounding again. I don't want any more shooting. Now, do you know what I should like just now?"

"No."

"I'd soon show you then that I wasn't lazy. I should like to see one of those beautiful ripples two or three hundred yards off which show that there's a shoal of fish feeding on the transparent what-you-may-call-'ems—I forget Uncle Paul's name for them."

"Well, if that would give you any satisfaction," said Morny, laughing, "I wish that a shoal would rise."

"Don't you be in such a hurry; I hadn't finished. I was going to say I should then like to see one of those great sea-serpent-like creatures rise slowly from below, to begin feeding on the fish—one of those great scientific wonders that you and your father are trying to discover and capture; for that's it, I suppose, though you do keep so squat about it."

"Ah-h-h!" said Morny, with a sigh; and he glanced sidewise at his young English companion.

"It is quite a joke, that it is," continued Rodd. "It's just as if you were jealous and afraid that uncle and I would get beforehand with you, and win the credit of the discovery for old England, instead of you carrying it off for your la belle France."

"Ah!" sighed Morny again, with a sad smile upon his lips.

"You French chaps are so sentimental. La belle France indeed! Just as if old England or the British Isles weren't quite as beautiful! Only we don't go shouting about it everywhere. I say, Morny, you don't half believe in me."

"It is false!" cried the young Frenchman angrily. "Why, I believe in you more than in any one living—except my father."

"Oh, indeed!" cried Rodd banteringly. "And here since I have known you I have told you everything till I haven't a secret that I have kept from you."

"Why, you have had no secrets," said Morny.

"Well—no; I suppose you couldn't call them secrets. But you've got one, and you have never let it out to me."

"No," said Morny gravely, "because it was not mine to tell. You don't want me to be dishonourable, Rodd?"

"Why, of course I don't, old chap. I don't want you to tell me till you like, only it is rather a joke sometimes that you make such a mystery of what uncle and I know as well as can be."

"You know!" cried Morny sharply.

"Why, of course I do. It's what I say. You want—I mean, your father does—to carry off the honour of having solved the mystery of the great fish or reptile that has been talked about for the last hundred years. I say, though, there's that other great old-world thing that they find in the rocks. What's his name?"

Morny shook his head.

"Here, I've got it—the sea-sawyer! That isn't quite right, but it sounds something like it. Why, he must have been just like a great crocodile."

"Ugh! Don't talk about them," said Morny, with a shudder.

"Eh, why not? There are none of them here. I wish we could have caught one to dry or stuff, or keep in spirits. I mean quite a little one, you know. Ah, those were rather horrid times, though, and I shan't want a specimen reptile to make me remember them."

"No," said Morny musingly; "we want nothing to make us recollect them."

"But I suppose it is nearly all over now, for our voyages will soon come to an end."

"Oh no?" cried Morny eagerly. "Why should they, now that your uncle and my father have become such friends?"

The lads both started, for those of whom they were speaking just then strolled up behind them.

"Well, boys," said the Count gravely, "what are you two talking about?"

"Rodd was saying that he supposed our friendship would soon come to an end."

"Indeed?" cried the Count, raising his eyebrows and turning to give a meaning glance at Uncle Paul. "Why should it, eh, my lad? I thought you and Morny had become such fast friends."

"Yes, so we have, sir," cried Rodd, flushing; "but I didn't quite mean that, for I hope we shall often meet; but I thought that now we are out at sea again we should be separating. The brig will be going one way, and we shall be going another."

"Do you wish this to be so?" said the Count, after another glance at Uncle Paul.

"I? Oh no, sir."

"And you, Morny, my son?"

"I, my father? They should not go away if I could stop it."

"You hear, doctor? Is not this strange after what we have been saying in the cabin. I tell you again, before long I will be quite open with you about the object of my voyage. At present I ask you not to press me."

"I have told you," said the doctor, smiling, "that I will not. I have told you also that my object for the short time that I shall stay down here in the south is to keep close inshore, while you tell me that you wish to be able to sail right out to sea, and free to carry out your project, whatever it may be."

"Yes, yes, and I have told you too that you could be of the greatest service to me by following close at hand, and that I should always be most grateful if without injury to your own cruise you would keep in company with me for the present."

"Ready to help in case of further emergencies?"

"No," cried the Count warmly; "my ideas were not so selfish as that. But tell me this—is it urgent that we should part company now? I mean, would you suffer loss, or would your own researches be injured by keeping in company with us for say another month?"

"No-o," said the doctor carelessly; "I am just as likely to make discoveries far out to sea as close inshore."

"Then stay with us for the present. I ask it as a friend, while I guarantee that you shall not suffer by what you do for me."

"Well," said the doctor, slowly and thoughtfully, as he looked at the two lads, who were intently listening for his words, "what do you think, Rodd? Shall we sail in company with the brig for a little longer?"

"Am I to be judge, uncle?" said the boy merrily. "Yes, if you like."

"Well, then," said the lad, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, as he found that Morny with lips parted was gazing at him with a look of appeal, "you see, uncle, we have been together a good while now, and though we tried to help the brig we seem to have dragged it into a good deal of mischief."

"What are you saying, Rodd?" cried Morny passionately.

"Oh, I mean that we have helped you a bit, but you have been very unlucky since we have been together. Still, if Morny doesn't mind risking it, and doesn't mind putting up with my jokes about la belle France, and yours, uncle, about the Emperor Napoleon—"

Morny started, and looked sharply at his father.

"—though by this time," continued Rodd, "I suppose you, sir, have found out that at heart uncle is very fond of the Emperor, and admires him very much—"

"You impudent young scoundrel, how dare you!" growled the doctor. "Bah!" he muttered to himself, "Temper!" Then turning quickly to the Count, he said almost apologetically, "Don't take any notice. I have spoilt him, sir; I have spoilt him. Look here, my dear sir; I shall very much regret the day when we have to part, for my own sake and for my nephew's, for since he has had the advantage of your son's companionship I have been in hopes that he would acquire something of his refinement and polish, and that it might lead in time to his achieving to somewhat of the carriage of a gentleman. I regret to say that so far he is as rough and boorish as ever. Still, in the hope that every one of his opportunities may not be thrown away, I shall be glad to prolong the intimacy a little longer. There, sir," he snapped out, as he turned sharply upon Rodd, "what do you say to that?"

"It's all right, Morny," said the boy quietly. "Go on polishing. I'll be more attentive now, uncle."

Morny gave him a quick nod, and turned then to grasp Uncle Paul's hand, while the brig and the schooner went sailing on westward ho!



CHAPTER FIFTY.

THE DOCTOR WILL NOT BELIEVE.

It was about a fortnight later, during which time, in deliciously calm weather, the two vessels had been cruising here and there, to the great satisfaction of the doctor, who was in a high state of delight, for he had been harvesting, as he termed it—bottling, Joe Cross said— numberless specimens of the strange creatures that swarm upon the surface of the southern Atlantic. And as they had got out so far, the doctor had been sounding Captain Chubb as to the possibility and advisability of making for that strange volcanic island known as Trinidad—not the richly verdant island of the same name that seems as if it had been once a portion of the north-east shoulder of leg-of-mutton-like South America, but the solitary island right away south-east from Bahia, which stands lonely in the ocean, the remains of the great volcanic eminence swept by the terrific seas and tempests that come up from the South Polar Ocean—an island that is the habitat of strange sea-birds, the haunt of fish, and the home and empire of those most hideous of the crustaceans, the land crabs.

Captain Chubb grunted and said he would think about it and consult the chart. As for the brig, Rodd did not banter Morny upon the subject when he came aboard, as he did pretty well every day when Rodd and his uncle had not visited the brig; but it was a standing joke between the lad and Uncle Paul that King Dagobert had not sighted the sea-serpent as yet.

"And it's my belief, Pickle, that they are going the wrong way to work."

"Why, what would you do, then, uncle?"

"Well, I'll tell you, my boy. He's a very shy bird, and if he knows you are looking for him he won't show. If you and I take up the search I tell you what we'll do; we won't look for him; we'll let him look for us."

"According to that, then, uncle, we are more likely to find him than they are."

"Of course, my boy. Why, haven't we proved it?"

They were down in the laboratory, where Joe Cross had been helping them over the bottling, but he had gone up on deck, the day's task being over, and the skipper now came down, looked and snorted at the fresh regiment of bottles, and made some remark about the doctor seeming out of spirits. But he did not mean it for a joke. Captain Chubb never did joke, for he was one of those men who pass their lives looking out for squalls, and his allusion was to the emptiness of the doctor's set of kegs.

"Well, it doesn't matter," said the doctor. "Sit down and let's talk. I have got quite as many preparations in spirits as will last me for years. By the way, did you think any more about Trinidad?"

"Deal," said the skipper shortly, and he gave the fixed table a rap with a roll of paper which he had brought down tucked under his arm. "Here's the chart."

"Well?" said the doctor, wincing, as the skipper unrolled the map on the dresser-like table, and catching up first one specimen bottle and then another used them as paper-weights to keep the chart flat, while he began to operate with his big rough, brown, index finger.

"Here y'are," he said, "and its character written about it: currents, shoals, stormy seas, all kinds of dangers. Bad landing-place; very rocky—place if you go to you ought to stop away."

"Sounds hopeful; eh, Pickle?"

"Oh, but curious, uncle. I should like to go."

"Well, then, you won't," said the skipper gruffly, "because your uncle's too wise to tell me to risk the schooner in such a sea."

"Humph!" grunted the doctor.

"I'll obey your orders, sir, and sail anywhere," continued the skipper, frowning very heavily, "but it's my duty to tell you when you are going wrong."

"Of course," said the doctor, "and as you give the place such a bad character, captain, we'll disappoint Rodd and stay away."

"Right," cried the skipper. Then after drawing a deep breath he looked fiercely at Rodd, and then glared at the doctor, who opened his eyes a little, wonderingly.

"Do you know where you are now?" said the skipper.

"Well, not exactly, only that we have been on ground rich in objects such as I wish to collect, and—excuse me, captain—that bottle—your elbow. I wouldn't have an accident to that for the world."

"Well, then," continued the skipper, very gruffly, as he dabbed his big finger down in the middle of the chart, "you are here."

"Saint Helena," said Rodd, after a quick glance at the chart.

"Right," grunted the skipper. "Now, Dr Robson, am I to speak out, or will you send young Mr Rodd here up on deck first?"

The doctor stared.

"I see no reason for sending my nephew away," he said coldly. "He and I have the fullest confidence in one another."

Rodd, who was standing leaning over the map, moved very slightly, but somehow his left hand stole on to his uncle's shoulder.

"Right, then," said the skipper harshly. "It is my duty, Dr Robson, to tell you that you are in a false position."

"Then, Captain Chubb, as my navigator in whom I have the most perfect trust, it is my duty to tell you that you ought to be on deck sailing us out of it as soon as you can."

"Come down here on purpose," said the skipper shortly, "and here goes. Now then, doctor, you are such a busy man, and you are so wrapped up in your fads about natural history and that sort of thing, that anybody artful could take you in and cheat you as easy as swallowing a gooseberry."

"Well, you have a nice opinion of me, Captain Chubb!"

"I have, sir—a splendid opinion of you," cried the skipper, "and I'd say it before all the judges in the land—I mean at home—that there was never a more straightforward gentleman made than you. I'd do anything for you."

"Hear, hear! Bravo, Captain Chubb!" cried Rodd. "What about me?"

"You, youngster? Well, you aren't half a bad 'un as boys go. But look here, doctor; time's come for me to speak out. You are a bit too innocent."

"Am I? Well, captain, that's better than being a bit too guilty; eh, Rodd?"

"A deal, uncle. But what's the matter, captain?"

"Why, this here, my lad. I can't stand still no longer and see your uncle being made a cat's-paw of."

"Cat's-paw, eh, captain?" said the doctor. "Let's see, that means to fetch the roasted chestnuts out of the fire. This must apply to you, Master Rodd."

"To me, uncle?" cried the boy, aghast.

"Yes; I don't know anybody else whom Captain Chubb looks upon as a monkey."

"Nay-y-y! I mean that there French Count."

"Stop!" cried the doctor sternly. "Mind what you are saying, Captain Chubb. Count Des Saix is my friend—a gentleman, a nobleman."

"I dessay he may be at home," said the skipper, meeting Rodd's indignant eyes, "but he aren't a gentleman, or he wouldn't be making such a tool of you. Now, don't you put yourself in a fury, doctor, or you'll be saying words you'll be sorry for arter. A gentleman like you as thinks, and is scientific too, has no business to go in a passion. That's all very well for a skipper as has got to manage a lot of awkward sailor chaps; if he didn't use words sometimes there'd be no getting a ship along. But you have got to take it cool like a Ann Eliza, and hear it right through, and then set yourself down and judge according."

"But look here, Captain Chubb," said the doctor angrily, "I cannot be silent and let you malign my friend."

"He aren't your friend, sir; he's only a Frenchman, and though I've done my duty by him right through, I allers felt as if I couldn't trust him."

"Why not?" said the doctor hotly.

"Because he being a natural born enemy of an Englishman, it didn't seem right that he should pretend to be such a friend of yourn."

"Why not, sir?" cried the doctor warmly.

"Now, none of that, doctor. I did warn you about not getting put out. Don't you call me, sir, 'cause I don't like it."

"Look here, Captain Chubb," cried the doctor, "I am sure you mean well."

"Thankye, sir; I do."

"Then why have you taken this prejudice against the Count?"

"That's a straight question, sir. Now let me ask you one. What's he doing here?"

"Upon some kind of research."

"Not him, sir! That's what he's told you, and it aren't honest. He's carrying on a game of his own behind you; and the boy's as bad as the old man."

"How dare you!" flashed out Rodd.

"Silence, Rodney!"

"I can't be silent, uncle. I won't stand here and listen to such an outrageous charge against those two gentlemen. I don't know what has come to Captain Chubb, but he ought to be made to apologise before he leaves this place."

"Well, he aren't going to be made to, young pepper-caster," growled the captain. "Honest men don't apologise for telling the truth, even if it don't taste nice."

"Look here, Chubb," said the doctor, "we are having too many words. Let's have a clear understanding about what you think."

"Right, sir. Let's get to the bottom of it at once. You want an explanation. It's this now. I have been very suspicious from the first. What about this 'ere Count and his son? First you knowed of 'em was as they was prisoners at Dartmoor. Well, it sounds bad for a man to be a prisoner, but as he was took in war that don't count for much, so we'll let that go. Next thing is, you runs agen 'em at Havre, cutting their cable and running for it when Government gives orders for them to stop. Next thing is, they boards our schooner like a set of pirates, only we seem too many for them; and then they cackles up a cock-and-bull story about wanting help, when they see they couldn't seize the schooner."

"Look here, Captain Chubb—" began the doctor.

"Give me my chance, sir, and let me finish, and then have your say. Help they had, and plenty on it, and I will say that a nicer, more gentlemanly-tongued chap than the Count I never met, nor had to do with a pleasanter nor nicer young fellow than his son."

"Thank you," said Rodd sarcastically.

"Now, don't you sneer, youngster," growled the captain, "for it aren't clever, nor it aren't nice. Well, now, doctor, we all went through a deal all along of these Frenchies, for I don't see how it could have happened if it hadn't been for them."

"Why, you took us up the river, captain," cried Rodd indignantly.

"That's true, sir, but it was to do the best for their leaky brig, and I made her as good a craft as ever she was; so you needn't chuck that in my teeth."

"Be silent, Rodney, and let the captain speak."

Rodd gave himself a snatch and clenched his fists.

"Well, sir, to make a long story short, the Count gammoned you into keeping company with him, and brought you here—here, of all places in the world—here, to Saint Helena," and he thumped the chart just where the island was marked.

"Yes," said the doctor thoughtfully—"here, to the neighbourhood of Saint Helena; upon a scientific research."

"Scientific research!" growled the skipper scornfully. "Look here, sir, don't you be so innocent. You make me wild. What's this 'ere Count? A Frenchman, aren't he?"

"Well, plenty of clever Frenchmen have followed science," said the doctor indignantly.

"Chinese too, sir, though they can't dress like Christians," cried the skipper. "But just you tell me this 'ere, sir; who lives at Saint Helena? Don't old Bony? Him as we shut up like the warlike lunatic he is, to keep him out of mischief?"

"Well, yes," said the doctor, much more suavely; "there is something in that."

"I should think there is, sir! Haven't I heard you carry on dozens of times about what a bad 'un he's been to the whole world?"

"Yes, yes, Chubb; I certainly do entertain strong feelings against that tyrant and usurper."

"You do, sir. I've heard you say things at times as have sounded red-hot."

"And I'm not ashamed of them, Captain Chubb," cried the doctor warmly.

"'Shamed on 'em! Not you, sir! They're a honour to you as an English gentleman. Not much of the innocent in you about that."

"Thank you, Captain Chubb; thank you," said the doctor.

"Oh, uncle!" cried Rodd, between his teeth.

"You let your uncle alone, youngster; I aren't done with him yet. Now then, doctor, your eyes aren't quite open now, but you are beginning to peep. Now, just have the goodness to tell me what you are a-doing here at Saint Helena—a place that a gentleman with your sentiments ought to have kept clear of like pison."

"Well," cried the doctor, warming up again, "you know I have accompanied my friend the Count upon his scientific expedition."

"Your friend the Count, sir! His scientific expedition!" snarled the skipper. "Do you call old Bony a scientific expedition?"

"I don't understand you, captain."

"Then here you have it, sir, plain. Your friend the Count is a Bony party, and as the French Government knew what game he was on and tried to stop him from running out of Havre, when he come upon us and found out what we were doing, 'Here's my man,' he says; 'I will just creep under his cloak and carry on my little game to carry off Bony. No one will suspect me if I am in good company, and on what he calls scientific research.' Consekens, here's you, sir, off the island of Saint Helena in co and company with this 'ere Bony party come to carry off and set free the man of all others you hate most in the world. Now you understand what you have come to do."

"I'll be hanged if I have!" cried the doctor, bringing his fist down with a tremendous thump upon the table, making one of the bottles leap up, fall over upon its side, and discharge its stopper at Rodd, who fielded it cleverly, though the contents—gelatinous infusoria and spirit of wine—were scattered all over the map.

"That's spoke like you, sir," cried the skipper; "but you needn't have spoiled my chart."

"Confound your chart, man! Here, Rodney, you hear all this? Do you think it's true?"

"No, uncle, I can't."

"Neither can I, sir. I cannot. I will not. You, Captain Chubb, you mean well, I know, but—Oh, it's outrageous! That I, Paul Robson, a man of my sentiments, should come to do such a disloyal thing as this— this—this—this treachery against my country and my King! Here, Captain Chubb, are you mad, or—"

"Drunk, sir? Say it out. I don't mind. It does me good to see you come to your senses like this. Brayvo, sir! That's the way to take it."

"Oh, uncle!" panted Rodd.

"You let him alone, sir. He's all right," cried the skipper. "I've stuck the harpoon into him. You give him line, and you'll see we shall have him in his flurry directly."

"Stop, man! Where are your proofs?"

"Yes," cried Rodd, stamping excitedly about the cabin; "where are your proofs?"

"Proofs?" said the skipper. "I d'know. Yes, I do. You ask the Count to his face, and his boy with him, whether what I say aren't true."

"Yes," cried the doctor. "Go on deck, and take that confounded speaking trumpet of yours. Hail the brig, and ask the Count to come on board."

"Yes—with his son!" stormed Rodd. "How can I? They went off this afternoon on some game or another, and haven't been in sight since."

"Hah!" said the doctor, fanning himself with one hand, wiping his face with the other, and then shaking his bandanna silk handkerchief up and down to try and get cool. "There, I am not going to be in a passion, Rodney. I am not going to say angry words to you, Chubb, for you believe all this, while I—I—I can't believe it. The Count is too grand a gentleman to have made a—a—what you said, of me. But I will have this matter cleared up, and you will have to apologise to me and the Count."

"And to Viscount Morny des Saix," cried Rodd.

"Yes, my boy; exactly," said the doctor; and then to the skipper—"If you are wrong!"

Saying this, he literally stamped out of the cabin.

"Where are you going, uncle?" cried Rodd, following.

"Up on deck, my boy," cried the doctor, without turning his head. "I feel like a furnace, and if I speak any more words they'll be like the skipper said—red-hot."

"Well," said the captain, as he stood staring towards the cabin stairs, "I never see'd the doctor with his monkey up like that afore. Anyhow, he aren't afraid to trust me with his bag of tricks down here, and bottles of mixture. But he needn't have spoiled my chart!"



CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

THAT'S SAINT HELENA.

Night, and no sign of the brig. Morning, and the doctor and his nephew both on deck, with a sail in sight upon the distant horizon, while just beyond it, looming up, was what seemed to be a dark cloud.

"There she is!" cried the doctor, glass in hand. "We will soon know the truth now, Rodd."

"That, sir?" said a voice close behind them. "That's Saint Helena."

The doctor started round as though he had been stung, to stare fiercely in the frank face of Joe Cross, who looked rather thin and hollow-cheeked, but had declared himself well enough to take the morning watch.