"They are slippery as their own skins," observed the Commodore; "we must have a sharp look on them, to keep them to their engagements."

The Ranger had captured several slavers, and sent them away to Sierra Leone for adjudication, and had driven many more off from the rivers into which they were bound to take in their cargoes, when, being under easy sail, about six miles off the coast, a large schooner was seen in-shore of them. Though all sail was made in chase, as the schooner increased her distance, Captain Lascelles ordered two boats to be manned in order to pursue her. To their great delight Jack got command of one, the cutter with eight men, and Adair of the other, a gig with six, many of the other officers being away in prizes. Their chief object was to come up with her before the setting in of the sea-breeze. Both boats, however, pulled badly, being soddened from having been so constantly in the water, besides which they leaked not a little. However, Jack and Paddy had learned that perseverance conquers all difficulties. Hot, as usual, was the sun. "Another warm day, Jack," cried Terence, as they pulled away; "I wonder how much marrow we shall have left in our bones and how much fat outside them when we get home."

Two hours and a half passed before they got up with the chase. The gig, from pulling best, was ahead. Jack did not grudge his messmate the honour, though he liked to be first when he could. The schooner, with all her sweeps out, as the boats neared her, put her helm up, and tried to run them down, opening at the same time a sharp fire of musketry. They, however, were too quick for her, and, pulling on either side, each man seized his musket and let fly in return. Loading again with the greatest coolness, as they passed her, they poured in another volley. The sweeps being rigged out, prevented them from climbing up by the chains.

"Never mind," cried Jack, "let us try the quarters." He pulled up to one quarter, Adair to the other, and before the slavers knew where they were going, the boats had hooked on, the seamen, led by their two gallant young officers, were springing over the low quarters of the schooner. Adair, however, got a severe lick on the shoulder, which would have sent him back into the boat had not one of his men given him a shove up; while Jack got an ugly gash on his arm from a cutlass, and would have had his head laid bare, had not Dick Needham's trusty weapon interposed to save him. All this time the slaver's crew were firing away down into the boats. One of the cutter's men was shot, and fell over. A messmate, Brown, attempted to lift him up, but he sank down like a piece of lead.

"It's all over with him," cried Brown, springing over the bulwarks, and resolved to avenge him. It was too true. He had been shot through the heart. A like fate befell one of the gig's crew. Still, with diminished numbers, the British fought on, but the odds were fearfully against them. They had, however, gained a footing on the slaver's deck, and as they had cutlasses and pistols in their hands, which they well knew how to use, they felt themselves to be on equal terms with six times their number of the sort of mongrel wretches who made up the slaver's crew. The latter at the same time seemed in no way daunted, and fought on with the greatest desperation. Hitherto neither Jack nor Adair had made out who were the officers of the wretches opposed to them, for the smoke hung so thickly over the deck, crowded as it was with people of every hue and every variety of costume, that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. At last Jack caught sight of a little man, urging on his companions. The voice too he had heard before. A puff of wind cleared away the smoke: Jack recognised his old enemy, Don Diogo. The Don knew him also. "Ah, ah, have you come to be killed?" sang out the little man, with a horrid grin. "Cut him down, cut down the little spy, my men. He was one of those who destroyed our barracoons and deprived us of our property. The sea-breeze will soon be up to us, and we may laugh at the frigate. Revenge, revenge!" Instigated by these shouts from their fierce chief, the slaver's crew, uttering loud imprecations, made a desperate rush against the English, and Jack, in spite of the gallant defence made by those around him, found himself brought on his knee to the deck.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

ABOARD THE PRIZE.

Don Diogo and his companions did not know what Englishmen were made of if they thought that they were going to win the day without a hard fight for it. Adair, wounded as he was, threw himself before Jack, and, aided by Needham and some of his best men, pistoled some of the Spaniards and cut down others, hurrahing so loudly, and charging so fiercely, that the rest, in spite of the little Don's exhortations, gave way before them. They pushed on till they reached the mainmast, where a resolute stand was made by the slaver's crew. During this time Jack recovered sufficiently again to join in the conflict. The little Don, seeing how things were going, rallied a number of his people around him, evidently prepared to make a stand to the last, and Jack, from what he had observed of his character, was fully convinced that he would make some desperate attempt to destroy them, even perhaps by blowing up the schooner and all on board.

Fortunately the hatches of the schooner's decks were open to give air to the unfortunate slaves confined below. They all the time were uttering the most fearful shrieks and cries, not knowing what was going to happen. Pressed backwards, several of the pirate's crew were tumbled down the hatchways among the negroes, adding to the confusion and dismay below. Others, pressed by Jack, who was fighting his way forward on the starboard side, leaped overboard, and, to avoid the cold steel of the avenging British, found that death from the ravenous sharks to which they had consigned so many of their black fellow-creatures. Although some gave way, others kept rallying round the mainmast, and so Adair had to keep them engaged to prevent them turning and attacking Jack in the rear. So hotly was he engaged, however, that he had no time to look about him. A loud shout made him turn his eyes for a moment forward, and then he saw Jack, who had gained the forecastle, waving his cutlass in triumph. The Spaniards, who had hitherto shown a bold front, on hearing the shout, and seeing that their chance of victory was gone, threw themselves pell-mell down the hatchways among their companions, who had by this time regained their legs. What was bad, they had also kept possession of their arms, and began to fire upon the English. The seamen could easily have shot them, but the cowardly scoundrels retreated among the chained slaves, believing that their enemies would not dare to fire, for fear of wounding the poor blacks also. They counted, however, without their host. Never was there a cooler fellow than Dick Needham, and, getting his musket ready, he ran forward, and judging where the Spaniards had stowed themselves, picked out a couple of them from the very middle of the blacks; then leaping down, cutlass in hand, followed by three of his shipmates, they very soon made the rest of the wretches cry out for quarter. When Jack and Terence looked around the deck they found it cleared—not a little to their surprise. What had become of Don Diogo?

"The villain must have gone below, and will be blowing us all up!" exclaimed Terence, rushing aft.

Forward he certainly was not, or Jack would have seen him. They both, pistol in hand, rushed into the cabin, expecting to have a desperate encounter with the fierce little Spaniard. The door gave way before them.

"Hillo! the fellow is not here," cried Jack.

"Then he's concealed somewhere," answered Paddy. "It's very unpleasant to feel that any moment he may be sending us up like rockets into the sky. I wish that we could rout him out before he commits any mischief."

Just then they were recalled on deck by the shout of one of their men. They hurried out of the cabin, and, looking over the quarter, they saw what they would have perceived before had they looked in the right direction. The Don, with six or seven of his followers, had jumped into their own gig, and was pulling away with might and main towards the shore. Jack and Terence at first thought of following him in the cutter, but then there was the danger of the Spaniards left on board rising, and overpowering the rest of the English. He also would certainly not yield without a most desperate resistance.

"The Don will say that exchange is no robbery," exclaimed Paddy, "we had better let him go. He has got our gig, and we have got his schooner, and a very magnificent craft she is, with 400 or 500 slaves on board. We can well spare him the gig."

Jack agreed to this, but suggested that if the sea-breeze reached them soon, they might still catch the Don by the ear. Meantime they set to work to secure the slaver's crew. Many of the villains had stowed themselves away among the slaves, and were endeavouring to let them loose, telling them that the English had come to murder them, and that their only chance of saving their own lives was to rush upon deck and to murder the English instead. Happily the attempt was discovered before many of the negroes were set at liberty, and the slaver's crew were all knocked down and, having both hands and feet lashed together, were brought on deck and placed in a row under the bulwarks.

Jack saw the breeze coming, and gave an order to trim sails to take advantage of it so as to go in pursuit of the gig with Don Diogo in her. The frigate lay about eight miles off and of course had not perceived the escape of the Don. She being more in the offing, would get the sea-breeze first. Jack and Terence watched her trimming sails, and then her white canvas began to bulge out, and on she came gliding proudly towards them. Not long afterwards they got the breeze. To tow the cutter would have impeded them, so they dropped her to be picked up by the frigate and stood after the gig. Don Diogo had got a long start, but still, from the gig pulling heavily, as they knew to their cost, they did not despair of overtaking her. Everything was done to increase the schooner's speed, as it was important to get hold of one of the most daring slave-dealers and slave-captains on the coast—a man whose head had grown grey in the vile traffic in which he was engaged, and who had already spent half a dozen fortunes made by it.

"Paddy, I believe we shall catch the Don after all," exclaimed Jack, who had been watching the gig through a glass, and at the same time inspecting the coast beyond. "I can make out no creek for him to run into, and if he attempts to beach that boat he will be swamped to a certainty."

"And serve him right too," answered Terence. "But, hillo, what is that for?" As he spoke a shot fired from the frigate came whizzing over their heads. Another and another followed in rapid succession. One of them flew directly between their masts.

"I don't like to heave-to, or we shall lose our chance of catching the Don," observed Jack; "but this is getting rather too serious to be looked upon as a joke." It was, indeed, for in another second, three or four more shot came crashing through the sails and against the spars of the schooner, one of which, the foretop-gallant yard, was shot away.

"We must signalise them, and beg them to be aisy," cried Terence. "But, hillo, I say, Jack, who could have left that abominable flag flying at the peak?" There, sure enough, at the peak of the schooner flew out the often disgraced flag of Spain.

"We'll haul it down, and settle that point afterwards," said Jack, suiting the action to the word and hauling down the flag. He was but just in time to save the schooner from a tremendous peppering, which the frigate, now ranging close up astern, had prepared for her. Jack ran up the rigging nearest the frigate, and pointed ahead to show that he was chasing something; indeed, by that time the gig when looked-for must have been seen clearly from the deck of the frigate.

"I am glad we did not fire into you, my lads," shouted Captain Lascelles through his speaking-trumpet. "You've done well—very well, but why did not you haul down the slaver's flag?"

"We'd so much to do, we never saw it, sir," shouted Jack in return. "There's the slaver's captain—we're after him."

"Stand in as close as you can, but don't get on shore, though," cried the captain.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Jack, well pleased to follow the orders given.

The frigate stood on for some distance after the gig, but she had to be hove-to that the depth of water might be ascertained, and this gave the Don an advantage of which he did not fail to profit. Though guns were continually fired at him, the gig was too small an object at that distance to enable even the best of marksmen to hit her with any certainty. When the frigate hove-to, the schooner once more passed her. Nearer and nearer she drew to the shore.

"We must take care not to wreck our well-won prize," observed Jack to Terence, and a lead and line having been found, he wisely sent a hand into the chains, to heave it as soon as he had rounded the schooner to. Well was it that he did so, for in a very few minutes more the schooner would have been on shore. It was provoking, however, to see the wicked old Spaniard pulling on triumphantly. They watched the gig as long as they could with their glasses. She disappeared amid a cloud of foaming surf, which seems ever, even in the calmest weather, to be breaking on that shore.

"The old fellow has escaped us now, but we will still have him some time or other—depend on that," said Jack, shutting up his glass. "However, we have destroyed his barracoons, and now we've captured his schooner— that's one consolation. He can't love us, though."

Truly, indeed, did Don Diogo nourish a bitter desire for revenge against the British generally, and the officers and the crew of the Ranger especially, which he was one day destined to have an opportunity of gratifying to the full. The frigate's studding-sails being rigged in, she, with her prize in company, shaped a course for Sierra Leone. Both Jack and Terence had been so severely handled when boarding, though they did not feel much of their wounds during the excitement of chasing the Don, that it was necessary for them to return on board the frigate to be under the doctor's hands, while another officer was put in charge of the prize. This was a great disappointment, but Captain Lascelles promised them that they should have command of the next prize the frigate might take. Having seen the prize some way on her course, the Ranger stood back to her cruising ground to the southward. In consequence of head-winds and calms she made but slow progress, and thus some weeks slowly passed away after the events I have described, before her people had much work to do. This was a great advantage, as it enabled Jack and Terence and the sick and wounded men to recover, away from the noxious air of the coast.

At length it became advisable to communicate with King Bom-Bom, whose prisoner Jack had been, and as both he and Terence knew the river, they were ordered to proceed up it, to deliver the message, and to return as soon as possible. I ought to have said that Wasser had attached himself to his old friend Hemming, and had entered regularly as a seaman on board the frigate. A very steady and careful lad he was too. He now went with the expedition to act as interpreter. The boat crossed the bar safely. Several traders were in the river, exchanging Manchester goods and cutlery for palm-oil, ivory, gold-dust, and other articles of value. King Bom-Bom received the midshipmen most politely, and gave them a handsome feast, though, as Paddy remarked, the cookery was rather dubious. He then frankly assured them that he was growing far richer as an honest trader, keeping a monopoly of the chief articles himself, by-the-by, than he had by all his connexions with the slave-dealers, taking into account the occasional burning of his barracoons, and the hot water in which he was continually kept. Of course King Bom-Bom was a sensible fellow, and saw things in their true light.

"What we have heard from our regal friend fully reconciles me to all the hard work we have to go through on this coast," observed Jack, as he and Terence were talking the matter over on their return down the river. "One thing is clear, this abominable slave-trade must be put down, and I believe that we are setting the right way to work to do it. First make it unprofitable and very dangerous, and then show the natives the advantages of civilisation and commerce." When the boat reached the mouth of the river, the frigate was nowhere to be seen. "Then, Paddy," exclaimed Jack, clutching his rifle, "let us have a cruise on our own hook. You remember the prize you took among the Ionian Islands, old fellow?" How merrily they laughed at the recollection of that early freak of theirs. Paddy, of course, was delighted to join in any scheme of Jack's. They could not tell in which direction the frigate had gone. They, at a hazard, steered to the southward. They had a good supply of provisions in the boat, and King Bom-Bom had given them still more. All that day they looked out anxiously for a sail, but sighted none. The greater part of the next passed much in the same manner. They were growing impatient. It is not pleasant to have to sit cramped up in a small boat under a burning sun off the coast of Africa with nothing to do.

At last the sea-breeze set in, and soon afterwards Paddy jumped up and, in his delight, almost toppled overboard, exclaiming, "A sail! a sail!" As the stranger approached, Jack made her out to be a long, low, black brig; he ordered the boat's sail to be lowered, and the people to lie down in the bottom of the boat, and to cover themselves up with the sail.

They both thought that the approaching brig was a slaver, but to make more sure they called Wasser to them. He crept along under the sail, and put his eyes up over the gunwale: "Yes, big slaver, no doubt," he observed; "but no get slavie in yet."

"Then we'll follow and board her," cried Jack. "If she won't heave-to, we'll make her."

This seemed rather a vaunting boast for two midshipmen and six men in a small boat to make, but Jack was perfectly in earnest about the matter. The men had their oars all ready to ship at a moment's notice. The brig stood on till she was within about 400 yards of the boat, and Jack, who was watching her from under the sail, thought that he should have to get out of her way to prevent being run down. Suddenly she changed her course, and hauled more off the land. Perhaps her people suspected a ruse. In an instant, as Jack gave the order, up sprang his men, out went their oars, and away after the brig they pulled. The character of the brig was soon shown, for no sooner did her crew see that they were pursued than they began peppering away at the gig, while a gun was run out at a port on her quarter, which opened a fire of round and grape-shot. Her low bulwarks afforded no protection to the crew working the gun, so Jack stood up, and taking deliberate aim, shot one of them just as he was about to fire.

"Terence, give me your rifle, and reload mine," he exclaimed. Terence did as he was bid. Another of the gunner's crew fell; a third and a fourth shared the same fate. The slaver's people could not understand how this had happened, but terror seized them, and they refused to go to the gun. This, however, did not save them, for the unerring rifle picked out several on different parts of the deck. The breeze was freshening, and the slaver made all sail away from the boat. But as a thresher pertinaciously pursues a whale till it has destroyed it, so did the little gig follow the large brig, which looked large enough to destroy a hundred such pigmy cockle-shells. Jack felt that everything depended on his coolness and the steadiness of his aim. Aided by Terence, well did he do his work. The astonished crew of the slaver must have fancied that they were pursued by evil spirits rather than by men. Once more they kept away dead before the wind, and, crossing the bows of the boat, stood towards the coast, it became evident that their intention was to run the vessel on shore and abandon her. Jack and Terence had no fancy that they should do that, as they did not wish to lose their prize. The breeze, however, increased so much that they could hardly keep way with her. Still they followed, firing as rapidly as before. At last Jack found that his shots were no longer telling, and as he was afraid of expending all his ammunition, he ceased firing, but still followed hard after the slaver. A sandy little bay was ahead, sheltered somewhat by a reef of rocks from the roll of the Atlantic. Towards it the slaver was steered. She grounded in smooth water. A boat was lowered, and into it some of her crew tumbled, while others appeared to be swimming on shore.

By the time they got up to the brig's quarter and climbed on board, all the crew had escaped with the exception of two men, one of whom was dying, the other was dead.

"Oh, Terence," exclaimed Jack, as he looked at them, "this is very dreadful!"

"What?" asked Adair, surprised.

"That my hand should have done that," answered Jack, gravely; "to know that one has been killing people is bad enough, but to see them afterwards—oh, I wish that I hadn't done it!"

"Then, you see, Jack, the slaver would have got off, and taken 300 or 400, or more, poor black people away from their homes and families, a third of whom would have probably died miserably on board, and the rest would have been destined to spend their lives in abject slavery, and to become the parents of a race of slaves. Those Spaniards, or Portuguese, or whatever they are, have brought about their own deaths. Every shot you fired contributed to prevent a vast amount of wretchedness and suffering."

Leaving the wounded man to Wasser's care, they went below to examine their prize. They found that she was fully equipped for carrying 700 or 800 slaves, instead of only 300 or 400, as Terence had supposed. She had two brass guns, an ample supply of arms and ammunition of every sort, so that she was as well able to act the pirate as the slaver. They could not decide what to do with her. They feared if they left her that her crew would return and burn her, while at the same time they were anxious to get back to the frigate. After waiting some time their course was decided by seeing the Ranger in the offing.

"Terence," said Jack, "you must go off to her. Leave me and the rifles, with Dick Needham to load them; and if the pirates appear I will keep them at bay till you return."

In vain Terence expostulated. Jack would have it so, and he was compelled to obey.

Thus were Jack and sturdy Dick Needham left alone on board the stranded vessel. They watched the gig as she pulled away, till she was lost in the distance.

"Now, Needham," said Jack, "if the pirates come back, which is more than likely, we must be prepared to give them a warm reception. See you load the rifles and I'll fire them." Jack very quickly got over his scruples about killing his enemies.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Dick, not at first quite comprehending what a warm reception meant. "But, sir, as they've left plenty of ammunition on board and these two brass guns, besides no end of muskets, we might give 'em a warmer still. If you think fit, sir, we'll load the guns with langrage, and range the muskets along the deck; and then any spare moment when you are using the rifles I might be popping them off."

Jack highly approved of Dick's notion, and only wished that the slaver's crew would come back, that he might carry it into execution. They both had been so busy that they had not thought of the poor wretched Spaniard. Suddenly Jack recollected him. He had been placed in the shade, under the poop-deck. He was still breathing.

"Eu moro de sede (I die of thirst, I die of thirst)," groaned the miserable man, showing his glazed eyes. His parched lips showed how much he was suffering.

"Dick, bring some water for this poor fellow," cried Rogers.

"Oh! senhor, you are very kind. I am a wretch, I know; but, as I hope to be forgiven, I forgive the man who shot me."

These were very nearly the last words the Spaniard uttered. A cry from Needham called Jack out on deck. There appeared on the beach the whole crew of the slaver, and in addition some twenty or thirty others, white men and negroes. They evidently did not perceive that anybody was on board, and began deliberately to launch the boat by which they had reached the shore, and which Terence had neglected to tow off before he left the brig. Jack waited till they had shoved off.

"Now, Dick," said he, creeping to one of the ports, "stand by to load, and hand me the rifles while I—do my duty." He was going to say, "pick them off."

Shot succeeded shot, and three men were hit before the pirates knew where their enemies were concealed. The boat was seen to put back, the people in her leaping in a desperate hurry on shore.

"It won't do to let them fancy that they are safe yet," cried Jack. "Hand me another rifle." He continued firing away, seldom failing to hit the man he aimed at.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Needham. "They are running off, they are running off." So they were, but they had not gone far before a man was seen galloping up on horseback. Jack thought he looked remarkably like Don Diogo. He began striking right and left with a sword at the fugitives, and was evidently urging them to make an attempt to regain the brig. At last he succeeded in inducing another party to embark, but he himself remained on shore. Several times Jack had aimed at him, but he seemed to bear a charmed life. None of the bullets took effect. Jack was afraid of firing at him again, for his rifle ammunition was almost expended. Finding the firing cease, the pirates gained courage and pulled boldly towards the brig.

"Now's the time for our dose of langrage, sir," cried Needham. Jack nodded his consent. Dick ran out one of the guns. Jack pointed it and fired. Then they sprang to the other, and fired that. Shrieks and cries followed, and the boat in a sinking condition put back to the shore. Don Diogo got off his horse, and stamped with rage. He could not make it out, but the men would not make another attempt. In a minute more they had all disappeared. As soon as they were clear off Jack and Needham set to work to examine the vessel more minutely, in the hopes of discovering some small quantity of water, or other liquid which they could drink. Vain again was their search, but on opening a locker Jack observed a box thickly bound with brass. He tried to pull it out, but could not move it alone, so he summoned Needham to his assistance. It was very heavy.

"We'll see what is in it," said Jack. Perhaps had he reflected, he might have waited to deliver it over unopened to Captain Lascelles. However, this did not occur to him at the moment. A cold chisel and hammer were soon found, and on the chest being forced open rolls of glittering gold coin lay exposed to view.

"Here is a mint of gold," cried Needham. "I wonder them pirate chaps didn't try to walk off with it."

"It shows what a fright they must have been in to leave it behind if they knew it was here," answered Jack. "However, we must shut the box up again. It is lawful prize-money, and will be divided in due proportions among all hands, that's one comfort."

"By-the-by, Needham," said Jack, after the box had been closed, "it strikes me that old Don Diogo must have known that the gold is on board, and that makes him so anxious to get hold of the vessel to recover it. Oh, how thirsty I am. For my part, just now, I would rather have a quart of water than that box of gold."

"So would I, sir," answered Needham; "may be, though, we shall find it cooler on deck, where there is a breath of air."

Fortunately Jack took Needham's hint. On looking towards the land the whole beach was covered with men carrying among them six or eight large canoes, while the little Don appeared as before on horseback, directing their movements. Jack, knowing the incentive which was influencing his enemies, and seeing the preparations made to attack the brig, might well have despaired of successfully resisting them. He and Needham were not people to sell their lives cheaply. As before, they loaded the brass guns, and all the muskets and rifles. He waited, however, to fire till the canoes were launched. Then he immediately opened on them. The canoes came on. Don Diogo was in one of them. He was eager probably to secure his gold. Jack took a steady aim at him, down he sank to the bottom of the canoe. Still that same canoe came on, and Jack fancied that he could see the old man's arm lifted up and still pointing at the brig. He could not bring himself to fire at him again, as he thus lay wounded and almost helpless. Needham, however, had marked the canoe; and, pointing his gun at her, let fly a whole shower of langrage about the heads of the negroes paddling in her. Many were knocked over; and the remainder, turning her round, made the best of their way to the beach. The other canoes stopped and wavered. Jack plied them well with bullets. The people on shore seemed to be beckoning them back. Jack bethought him of taking a glance seaward to ascertain if assistance was at hand, and there he saw the Ranger under full sail, standing towards him. His danger was not yet over. The pirates made another desperate attempt to regain the brig, but were as gallantly repulsed as before, the negroes not being able to withstand the hot fire kept up on them. Jack and Needham set up as loud a cheer as their parched throats would let them give, when, in a short time, they saw Hemming in a boat and Adair in another, approaching the brig. Fortunately she had taken the ground so softly that she was hove off that very evening. Adair, however, in consequence of the exertions he had gone through, was too ill to accompany Rogers in charge of her to Sierra Leone; and so Jack, much to his regret, had to go by himself, not forgetting his faithful rifle.

Meantime the Ranger stood to the southward. Adair had got almost well: he was on the lookout aloft, when his eye fell on a dark object floating on the water. At first he thought it might be a rock, then a dead whale. At length he felt convinced that it was a vessel, either capsized or with all her canvas lowered. He descended below, and reported the circumstance to Captain Lascelles. The ship was steered towards the object, and his last conjecture was found to be the right one. As they got close to the vessel, a small schooner, one person only was seen walking the deck.

"That's a midshipman, sir," said Adair to Mr Hemming. "And I can't make him out quite, but he looks very like Alick Murray."

The frigate was hove-to, a boat was lowered, in which Adair went; and sure enough, Alick Murray was the person seen. He looked ill and thin.

"My dear fellow, how do you come to be this in plight?" asked Terence, as he jumped on board the little craft.

"It's a long story," said Murray. "We took her to the southward off Benguela, and Captain Grant put me in charge of her to carry her to Sierra Leone. She had the fever on board, I have no doubt, at first. It broke out the other day after we parted company with the Archer, and one after the other my poor fellows died. A black man and boy, whom we took in the prize, are the only survivors, and they are still below sick with the disease. I have been waiting in hopes of their getting well and strong enough to make sail to proceed on my voyage. I'll give you a fuller history another time."

"The best thing you can do is to let the little craft go her own way, and come on board us," observed Adair.

"What, Paddy, would you counsel such a course?" exclaimed Murray. "Captain Grant put me in charge of the vessel to carry her to Sierra Leone, and while I've life in me that is what I am bound to do."

"Then, old fellow, I'll go with you, if Captain Lascelles will let me," answered Terence, warmly. "That's settled; I'll go on board and get leave, and bring Dr McCan to have a look at your people, and to leave some physic for them to take."

Away went Terence. He had a hard battle to fight with his captain, who, however, expressed his admiration of the spirit evinced by Murray. Needham and Wasser, and another man and a boy, were directed to go on board to act as crew. Dr McCan came on board the schooner: and having prescribed for Murray and his two negroes, and pronounced them in a fair way of recovery, took his departure. Murray then made sail and shaped a course for Sierra Leone, much happier than he had been for a long time.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

AN ADVENTUROUS VOYAGE.

Who would not rather command a gunboat, or even a despatch vessel or fire-ship, than be a junior lieutenant, mate, or midshipman on board a line-of-battle ship or the smartest frigate afloat? Such were Murray's feelings as he and Adair paced the deck of the somewhat unseaworthy little schooner of which he had been placed in charge by Captain Grant. While he stood away towards Sierra Leone, the Ranger continued her course to the southward.

"I can't say much for your accommodation," observed Terence, after they had stood watching the fast-receding frigate, and Murray had shown him over his craft.

"I won't boast of it, and if I had to fit out a yacht, I should choose something better," answered Murray, laughing. The whole cabin was only eight feet long, and though it was five high in the centre, under a raised skylight, it was scarcely more than three at the sides, which being right aft, it decreased rapidly as the stern narrowed. There was a fore-peak, in which the two poor negroes lay, but there was no room in it for more people, so that the rest of the crew were obliged to live in the after-cabin. Adair certainly did not know the discomforts to which he was subjecting himself when he undertook to accompany Murray. Not a particle of furniture was there in the cabin, the beams and sides were begrimed with dirt and cockroaches, and a considerable variety of other entomological specimens crawled in and out of every crevice in the planks, and found their way among all the provisions, as well as into every mess of food cooked on board.

The schooner was laden with tobacco and monkey-skins, which latter she had taken on board at one of the ports, in exchange for some of her tobacco, the remainder of which she was about to barter for slaves.

"Negro-head for negroes," as Paddy remarked, when Murray gave him the account.

Several days of the voyage had passed with light winds and smooth sea, and not unpleasantly, though but little progress had been made, when as Adair, who had the first watch at night, was walking the deck, thinking that all was right, he heard a roaring noise on the port quarter. He looked astern. A long white line of curling foam came rolling up at a rapid rate towards them.

"Lower the peak, slack away the main halyards, in with the mainsail, brail up the foresail! Murray, Murray! on deck here; all hands on deck! In with the jib and down with the fore-staysail!"

The sudden quick jerking of the little vessel would soon have awakened all the watch below had his voice not done so. The sails were not lowered a moment too soon. On flew the schooner under bare poles, the seas roaring up on either side, and often breaking over her. Every man had to hold on for his life; away, away she flew; every instant plunging more and more, while the foaming seas seemed still more eager to make her their prey. Murray, attended by Wasser, disappeared below. He soon returned.

"Paddy," he said, touching Adair on the shoulder, "I've bad news. We've sprung a leak, and I fear that the vessel is sinking."

Both Murray and Adair had gone through so many dangers, that neither of them were inclined to despair, even when they found themselves on board a little rotten vessel, plunging along through terrific seas with a leak in her bottom, which was letting in the water at a rate which must speedily send her far down to the depths of old ocean. Away flew the little craft under bare poles, the dark seas, with thick crests of white, rolling up on either side of them, with loud roars, and threatening to come right down upon the deck and swamp them. Tumbling about as the vessel was, it was no easy matter even to get the pump rigged in the dark. That task, however, was at length accomplished, and all hands set to with a will in the hopes of clearing the vessel of water. At first it seemed to be rushing in as fast as it gushed out.

"I believe after all it was only the water which got down the hatches when the first sea broke aboard of us," said Murray, and with this idea both he and Terence were much comforted. Drearily and wearily drew on the dark hours of that tempestuous night. Daylight came at last, and only exhibited the scene of wild commotion around; the leaden sky, the dark grey waves broken into strange shapes, leaping and rolling over each other, and covered with masses of white foam. Off that strange African coast, storms and calms succeed each other with but scant warning. By seven o'clock the wind suddenly dropped, and in another hour the sea went down, and the lately wave-tossed bark lay perfectly becalmed.

"Terence," said Murray, "look over the side of the vessel; doesn't she strike you as being much lower in the water than she was?" Terence feared so. The well was sounded, and three feet of water was found in the hold.

"Man the pump!" cried Murray. This was done, but before many minutes had passed the pump broke. The damage was considerable; but Needham was a handy fellow, and could manage nearly any work. The two young officers lent him a hand. All sorts of devices were thought of, all sorts of things were substituted for those which were wanting; but with the quantity of water in the hold, and in the way the craft was tumbled about by the swell, the operation took much longer time than might be supposed. It is very exciting to read of a ship sinking with the pumps out of order, and half a dozen leaks in her bottom; but the reality, though it may also be exciting, is very far from pleasant. People under such circumstances are inclined to labour away rather in a hurry, and not to stand on much ceremony as to what they do. Night was coming on rapidly. They laboured and laboured away. It was difficult enough to do it with daylight: it was a question whether they could make any progress at all in the dark.

"There, sir!" exclaimed Needham, giving a hearty blow with his hammer, and relieving his pent-up feelings by a loud outletting of his breath between a groan and a sigh; "I hope that will do." Without stopping a moment, he and Wasser, with White, the other seaman, seized the break, and began labouring away with all their might. To the great joy of all hands a clear full stream came gushing upon deck, and ran out through the scuppers. The blacks, and all not immediately engaged in mending the pump, had been baling away all the time with buckets. They pumped and pumped away, and after half an hour's toil they found on sounding that they had much lessened the water in the hold.

"Huzza!" shouted Needham; "we'll do now, never fear, lads!" Nearly three hours, however, passed before the vessel was completely cleared of water. It was Adair's watch.

"I shall sleep more soundly than I have done for many a day," said Murray, as he prepared to turn into his horrible little berth. "We have been so mercifully preserved that I trust the same Almighty hand will protect us to the end of our voyage. Paddy, my dear fellow, do you ever pray? I never see you on your knees."

"Pray!" answered Adair, with some hesitation, "of course I do; that is to say, sometimes—when I recollect it. I dare say I ought more than I do."

Murray took his shipmate's arm as they stood together near the taffrail of their little craft, looking out over that heaving ocean whose smooth, glass-like undulations reflected ever and anon the bright stars which glittered in the dark sky above their heads. "Tell me who but One whose hand is powerful to save could have preserved us from the numberless dangers into which our duty, but how often our thoughtlessness, has led us. Were it not by His mercy, we should even now be sinking beneath those glassy but treacherous swells on which our vessel floats securely; then should we not, my dear Adair, pray to Him, not only now and then, when we may think of it, but at morning and evening, when we rise and when we sleep, and oftentimes during the course of the day? Remember what the Bible says, it tells us to pray always."

"You are right, Murray, you are always right," answered Adair, with a sigh. "I know, too, that you practise what you preach, or I would not listen to you. I'll try to follow your advice. I'll pray when I turn in by and by. I'll thank God that we have not gone to the bottom, and I'll pray that we may be saved as we have been all along in the dangers we may have to encounter."

"Why not pray at once?" exclaimed Murray. "All on board here have been equally preserved. The same God made us all, the same God will hear our prayers."

"Yes, yes, all right—I'll do what you like," said Adair.

The young midshipmen called the crew around them, after Needham took the helm. They and Wasser and the other seamen knelt on the deck, and though in no set phrases, offered up their hearty thanks for their preservation from the dangers which had threatened them; and earnestly did they pray that they might be carried in safety through those they might yet have to encounter. Murray was one of those people who could think well, and when he wrote had no difficulty in expressing himself, yet when he came to speak aloud, and more particularly to pray aloud, found that the exact words he might have wished to use were not forthcoming. The two poor blacks who, perhaps, had never in their lives seen white men praying before, stood by astonished at what was taking place. They asked Wasser what it was all about. He was rather more enlightened than they were. He told them to the best of his knowledge. They listened attentively. They said that they should like to know more about the matter, and he promised them that he would ask Mr Murray to speak to them on the subject. Thus was a way opened into the hearts of these two benighted sons of Africa to receive the good seed of the truth by this unpremeditated act of the young midshipmen. How many other midshipmen might do the same, with the most blessed results, if they themselves did but feel the importance of performing boldly and fearlessly their duty as Christians.

With the return of daylight the weather promised to be fair, and, making sail, they again shaped their course for Sierra Leone. As may be supposed, even in calm weather they had no very great amount of enjoyment. When the sun shone they were almost roasted by its burning rays, and when it was obscured they were pretty well parboiled. Do all they could, also, they could not keep the cabin clear of cockroaches and numberless other creeping things. A meal was anything but an easy or pleasant operation. The only chance of not having half a dozen live creatures sticking to each mouthful was to keep not only the dishes but the plates covered up. Disagreeable as it was, Murray and Adair could not help laughing at each other as at every mouthful they had to pop in their forks under the covers, which were instantly clapped down again, and what was brought out thoroughly examined before it was committed to the mouth, while, as Adair remarked, the soup was more properly "beetle broth" than anything else. The schooner rejoiced in the name of the Venus, though, as the midshipmen agreed, she was the very ugliest Venus they had ever seen. She had, besides tobacco, a quantity of monkey-skins on board.

They were sitting at dinner one day, for the sun was too hot to keep on deck, and they had no awning.

"I say, Murray, is there not a somewhat disagreeable odour coming out from forward?" observed Adair, sniffing about. "Tobaccoish, I find it."

"Rather," answered Murray, laughing. "I have perceived it for some days. It is enough to cure the most determined smoker of his love for the precious weed. It is from the tobacco we have on board. After being thoroughly wetted it has now taken to heating. However, we may hope for the best, at present it is bearable."

A bright idea struck them soon after this. They might turn the monkey-skins to advantage. They had needles and a good supply of twine, so they set to work and neatly sewed them together till they had manufactured an awning sufficiently large to cover a good part of the deck. They could now take their meals and sleep occasionally, when the weather was fair, in fresh air, which was a great luxury. At length Wasser, who had the lookout one morning, shouted, "Land! land!—land on the starboard bow!" Everybody in a moment jumped up. After examination, Wasser declared his conviction that it was somewhere off the Gold Coast, not far from Cape Coast Castle. Still Murray and Adair agreed that it would be far better to stand on, because if they could manage to weather Cape Palmas they might have a quick run to Sierra Leone. The schooner was soon afterwards put about. No one complained, though they might have cast a wistful eye at the harbour they were leaving astern.

"We are doing what is right, depend upon it," observed Murray. "If so, all will turn up right in the end."

The provisions had, they knew, been running short. They now carefully examined into their stock, when, to their dismay, they found that they had only a supply remaining for three or four days.

"Never mind," was Murray's remark. "We will go on half allowance. In three or four days at most we shall weather the cape, and then we shall have sufficient provision to keep us alive till we get in."

No one even thought of complaining of this arrangement, but took with thankfulness their half allowance of food. Murray was much pleased with the way the men bore their privations. He never thought about himself, and took less than any one.

"I remember hearing an account given by some friends of ours of the behaviour of their servants during a famine in England many years ago," observed Murray. "Corn was very scarce, and bread being consequently at an enormous price, they determined to put their household on an allowance, and to allow so many slices to each servant in the day, giving them rice and other things instead, not stinting them, therefore, in their food. This excessively enraged the pampered menials, and their old butler, who was the most indignant, ate so much meat and puddings of various sorts, and drank so much beer, that he actually brought on a surfeit, and died from it. How angry most of the fellows at school would have been if told that they could not have butter, or sugar in their tea. Never mind if the butter was not to be procured, and the sugar had by chance not come from the grocer's. How differently do these poor seamen and the ignorant blacks behave. Not a grumble is heard, not a look even of annoyance is seen."

Day after day they stood on, thinking that they must sight Cape Palmas before many hours had passed, and then, after making the land, they found that they could not be many miles farther to the west than they were before.

"Still we might do it, if we could but get a stiffish breeze," observed Murray. "I think the wind is drawing out more from the north-west and east. What say you, Paddy?"

"Let's keep at it to the last moment. I'm ready for what you are?" answered Adair.

The schooner was once more put about with her head to the westward.

Everybody whistled as they walked the deck—even the blacks did so— though they did not know the reason why.

The breeze did not come a bit the faster on that account. However, at night it blew pretty strong off the land, and their hopes again revived. But as the sun rose, it backed once more into its old quarter, and once more they had to tack. On making the land, there were the identical hillocks and clumps of trees they had before seen. Murray and Adair agreed that there must be all the time a strong current setting them to the eastward, and this, on running in closer, heaving-to, and trying the bottom with the lead, they found to be the case. Provisions for two days, and less than half allowance, was all they had now got. Murray and Adair consulted together.

"We shall have to make for the nearest port, I fear, after all, or run the chance of starving," said Adair.

"There is no alternative," answered Murray, with a sigh. "We have done our best."

"That we have," replied Adair quickly. "There is no doubt about that. You have, that is to say—I should have given up long ago. The sooner we shape a course for Cape Coast Castle the better."

The schooner was kept away to retrace her steps to the eastward. But now the wind fell altogether, and they began to fear that after all they should get nowhere. The little food they had left was very bad. Gradually it disappeared, and at length they literally had nothing eatable on board.

"We must take a reef in our waistbands, and suck our thumbs," said Paddy. "I see no other remedy for it."

He said this in the hearing of the men, to encourage them as much as he could.

"We cannot be far off Cape Coast Castle, that is one comfort," added Murray. "We will keep a sharp look out for it at all events."

The day passed, and so did the next, and still the calm continued. They searched about in every part of the vessel, in the hopes of discovering a store of farina or rice, but nothing could they find but the rotting tobacco and the monkey-skins, and, starving as they were, they could not manage to eat them. Even when reduced to this extremity the young officers themselves did not despond, nor did their men, who looked to them for example, do so either. Murray calculated that if they could but get a breeze, they might reach the port for which they were steering in less than twenty-four hours. It was very tantalising to be so near it, and yet not to be able to get there. Had they had any fish-hooks, they would, they thought, be able to catch some fish, but none were to be found, nor had they a file with which to manufacture any out of old nails, as they had often heard of being done.

"Necessity is the mother of invention," exclaimed Adair suddenly. "Here's a piece of tin. I have some scissors in my dressing-case, and I think I could manage to cut out a hook or two before they are quite blunted. Let's try, at all events."

The scissors were produced, when, to their great delight, a file for finger-nails was discovered at the back of the blades. Not only were two tin hooks cut out, but three more were manufactured out of some nails before the files were rendered completely useless. Bait was the next thing to be procured. As there was nothing eatable on board, how was it to be got? That was the question. Adair solved it by trying one of his hooks without any. "Hurrah!" he exclaimed in less than five minutes, "I have a bite. Hurrah!" Up came a curious-looking monster in the shape of a fish. It was a question whether or not it was poisonous. A fire was made and a pot put on to boil, into which the creature, part of it being cut off for bait, was immediately popped. They would rather have caught a young shark, with whose character they were acquainted; but starving men are not particular. Before the pot had begun to boil, a fresh breeze came in from the offing, and away flew the little schooner with more liveliness than she had displayed for many a day. The lines were hauled in. Murray and Adair agreed not to touch the strange fish. They also advised the men not to eat of it. The sun went down, and all night they ran on at a fair rate. The next morning land was in sight. They hoped that it might be near their destination. Adair had just relieved Murray, who had turned in to go to sleep. He observed the black man looking very miserable, and presently the black boy complained of being very ill.

"What have you been about, Sambo?" asked Adair, looking into the caboose.

"Oh! massa, massa, me eat fish," groaned the poor lad.

"It ought to have been thrown overboard, to have removed temptation out of your way," observed Adair, taking the pot with the intention of suiting the action to the word, but on lifting the lid he found it empty. The negroes had eaten up every particle of the fish. They groaned and rolled about for some time evidently in some pain and in considerable alarm. It was no wonder they were ill, but it was evident also that the fish could not have been of a very poisonous character, or they would have been much worse. Indeed they speedily forgot all their sickness on hearing Wasser exclaim, "Dere, dere! dose hills above Cape Coast Castle!"

The words indeed had a great effect on all on board. Murray, who had been there before, the instant he came on deck pronounced Wasser to be right, and in a short time the schooner was running in towards a collection of conical and wooded heights, with the strong and formidable-looking fortress of Cape Coast, built on a mass of rock, in front of them, with the sea washing round a considerable part of it. It looked a very large fortification; indeed it covers several acres of ground, mounts upwards of a hundred guns, and is kept in the most efficient condition. The old castle stands in about the centre of the fortress, and is four storeys in height. The Governor and his suite, as do most of the public officers, find ample accommodation within its walls. It is garrisoned by black soldiers, chiefly from the West Indies, but their officers are all Englishmen. As soon as the schooner's anchor was let go, Murray and Adair hurried on shore to report themselves to the Governor, and to obtain his assistance. The moment he heard of the state of the schooner's crew he sent off provisions, insisting on the midshipmen remaining to dine with him, that they might relate their adventures.

"But you young gentlemen are probably hungry, and would rather not wait for dinner," observed the Governor.

"Slightly so," answered Adair, "seeing that nothing has passed our lips for the last two days. We were in a hurry to get food for our people, so had no time to eat before calling on your Excellency."

The remark in a very few minutes procured the midshipmen an ample luncheon, to which they did full justice, and would very likely have done more than justice, had not the good-natured Governor stopped them, and hinted that they would spoil their appetites for dinner.

"No fear of that, sir," answered Adair, laughing, "midshipmen make it a rule always to be ready to eat two dinners if called upon to do so in the way of duty. However, I dare say we can hold on now till dinner-time."

Murray and Adair had no intention of spending the interval in idleness. Though they would have gladly gone to sleep, or taken a bath, they again hurried on board their craft, to ascertain that the provisions had arrived, and that their men were made comfortable. Needham had done all that they could wish, and was very proud of being left in charge of the schooner while they were on shore. The first thing to be done was to refit their vessel before she would be in a fit state again to put to sea, and to effect this they without delay took the necessary steps to procure rope and other stores. On returning to the port the Governor received them with the greatest kindness and hospitality, and as they sat in the cool dining-room in the castle, they agreed that it was a perfect paradise compared with their stuffy little cabin when the noonday sun was striking down on the deck.

"All things are by comparison," observed Adair sententiously. "Some people now at home would not think this old fort on the African coast much of a paradise." Several guests, merchants, and others were present, and they had to recount their adventures to all the party. On returning on board, having moored the vessel in a safe position, they turned in and slept as midshipmen thoroughly worn out with anxiety and fatigue, with good consciences and a comfortable dinner inside them, can sleep. The next morning all hands set to work with a will to refit the schooner. By heaving her down they got at what they believed to be the chief leak, and caulked it, and in four days they considered their craft once more ready for sea. The Governor supplied them with provisions for forty days, and very kindly sent them some extra luxuries for themselves. By the Governor's advice, they took one entire day's rest for themselves and their crew. Then, in high spirits, anticipating no further difficulties, they once more put to sea. They had arms and powder, and a six-pounder gun which had belonged to the schooner, and, as compared to their previous condition, they felt themselves in a condition to encounter any gale of wind or any enemies they were likely to meet with. When they went to pay their farewell respects to the Governor, he said that the state of their little vessel had been reported to him, and that he would really advise them to give up the attempt to take her to Sierra Leone, and to wait till a man-of-war should call off the castle to receive them on board. Murray's answer may be supposed, though he thanked the Governor for his advice. The day was remarkably sultry and close. There was a haze, but not sufficient to obscure altogether the sun's beams, while the only wind which blew came off the hot sands in the interior. They agreed that they would be better off at sea than roasting on shore, and so, getting on board, they hove up the anchor and made all sail to the westward.

"Paddy," said Murray, as they were walking the deck after dinner, almost gasping for breath, "I don't quite like the look of the weather; what do you think of it?"

"That we should stand by to shorten sail at a moment's notice," answered Adair. "See that white line of foam curling away over the glassy surface of the water out there. Here it comes."

"I see it. All hands shorten sail!" shouted Murray, as he and Adair ran to help execute the order. They were but just in time when the tornado came thundering down upon them. The main and peak-halyards were let go, and the mainsail was handed while the topsail and jib-sheets were let fly, and round spun the vessel, almost capsizing as she did so, for the foresail was not yet brailed up. It was hard work to brail it up, fluttering as it was in the gale, but at length away she flew before the gale. Some people have an idea that the climate on the coast of Africa is all sunshine and heat. Hot enough it is, but at the same time the sky is often dark, lowering and gloomy in the extreme. Nothing can have a more depressing effect than the atmosphere at such times on all not thoroughly acclimated to it. Everything was made snug on board, but for three entire days they could scarcely show a stitch of sail, while the little vessel tumbled about so much that it was with difficulty they could light a fire for a short time in the caboose. They got some salt beef boiled, and then a sea came in and put the fire out, and though they tried hard, they could not light it again. However, the beef was pretty well done, and lasted them some days. Murray and Adair passed the time as they best could. They had but a small supply of books. The cabin was so close and hot, and on the deck the wind blew so hard, that it was a somewhat difficult undertaking to attempt to read. They did not manage therefore to add much to their stock of knowledge during the period of the gale. The vessel, however, happily held together, and at the end of three days the weather gave signs of moderating.

"That's a comfort," exclaimed Adair, as once more they were able to make sail, and the schooner, with everything she could carry, was put on her proper course; "it will be hard if we do not reach Sierra Leone before long now." They, however, on taking an observation, found that they were much farther from their destination than they were when at Cape Coast Castle. At it again they went, however, but the wind fell, and for several days they made but very little progress. Still they were going in the way they wanted, and that was something. For about a week they stood on thus, with the wind not only light but very scant. One afternoon Wasser's sharp eye discovered a sail to windward. Murray went aloft with his glass to have a look at her.

"What do you make her out?" asked Adair.

"A brig or brigantine; a two-masted vessel of some sort," answered Murray. "She is standing this way. I do not altogether like her looks. She has a widespread of white canvas, and so, if she is not a man-of-war, she is a slaver, of that I have little doubt." The crew heard what was said. Murray remained some time longer aloft. When he came down he looked grave and determined. "My lads," he exclaimed, after exchanging a few words with Adair, "I have very little doubt that the craft in sight is a slaver or pirate, and that at all events she will treat us with scant ceremony. We must beat her off. I know that you all will do your best to do so."

"That we will, sir, never fear," answered Needham, in the name of the rest.

"I know that, my men; there's no time to be lost in getting ready though," said Murray. "Hand up the arms, and we'll try to give the fellows, whoever they may be, a warm reception if they attempt to molest us." All hands were instantly employed in getting ready for the enemy. The gun was loaded, and several shot placed in a rack near it; the muskets and pistols were also loaded, and cutlasses were buckled on. They had no boarding-nettings, and their only hope of victory was by showing so bold a front at first, that the enemy might be driven off without coming to close quarters. As the stranger drew near she was seen to be a most wicked, rakish-looking brigantine, and neither Murray nor Adair had any longer the slightest doubt in their minds that she was a slaver. They hoisted the English ensign, but she showed no colours in return.

"We shall have to fight for it," observed Murray to Adair; "but though the odds are fearfully against us, I have a strange feeling of satisfaction in contemplating such a contest. I cannot help trusting that we shall come off victorious, in spite of the apparent strength of our enemy."

"I am sure I hope so," said Adair, who did not quite understand the thoughts which were pressing through his messmate's head. "We will fight away as long as we have hands to fight with and an ounce of gunpowder for our muskets. It was a craft like that brigantine out there captured poor Hanbury, and murdered him and his boat's crew. I only wish that we had a few more guns and men, and if that is the very pirate, we might avenge his death."

"No, no, do not talk of vengeance, Adair," said Murray gravely; "vengeance does not belong to man. It would be our duty, if we had the power, to take the miscreants and to bring them to justice; as it is, I trust that, though with infinitely inferior force, we may beat them off. But we must not, as Christians, allow ourselves for a moment to indulge in the idea that we are avenging the death or the wrongs of even the dearest of our relations or friends."

"I had not seen the matter in that light," answered Adair.

"Then, my dear fellow, try and do so. It is the true light depend on that."

Who would have supposed, when looking at the two vessels, that those on board the little half-crippled schooner could for a moment have contemplated with confidence a conflict with the well-found, powerful brigantine? But there was just this difference. The midshipmen felt that they were, to the very best of their means, performing their duty, and they felt a perfect confidence in Heaven's protecting power, while they knew that the slaver was engaged in the most nefarious of callings, and that the most abandoned miscreants composed her crew. On she came, as though triumphing in her strength. Hitherto the little wind blowing had been to the northward and east. As Adair was looking out to the northward, he observed a dark blue line coming rapidly along over the water. He pointed it out to Murray. "Trim sails," was the order promptly given. In another minute the little schooner, close hauled with her sails like boards, was standing away to the westward, while the brigantine lay dead to leeward at the distance of at least two miles and a half. Some minutes passed even before she felt the breeze, and when she did it was pretty evident that it would take her many a weary hour to catch up the schooner. The midshipmen agreed that with the opportunity thus afforded them of getting away from the slaver, it would be the height of rashness to wait and encounter her. They felt grateful for having been thus preserved, and when the brigantine was seen to fill and keep away on her course, they could not help joining their men in giving vent to their feelings in a shout of joy. They stood on all night. Eagerly the next morning they looked out—not a sign of the brigantine was to be seen. For several days after this they were knocking about, making often very little way, and sometimes drifting back again during a calm double the distance they had made good during the last breeze.

"I do hope, sir, as how this voyage won't last much longer," observed Needham to Adair, pointing to numberless rents and torn places in the sails. "I don't think this here canvas would stand another stiffish gale without flying into ribbons. I've been hunting about, and I've found a spare boat's sail and some other stuff to mend them. To my mind, it's the best thing we could do before another squall catches us."

Needham's advice was immediately taken, and the wind being very light, the sails were lowered, and all hands set to work to mend them in the best fashion they could. Needham having once belonged to the sailmaker's crew, was a very fair hand at the work, but the rest were anything but expert. However, all used their needles to the best of their abilities. Adair pricked his fingers very often, and, as he observed, he left indisputable traces of his industry. So important was it to get their sails set again before night, that they scarcely allowed themselves time for their meals. Having done little else than drift about all day, it was with no little relief to their minds, that, just as the sun went down, they once more got the sails bent and hoisted. Murray's sextant had been broken, and as he was leaving the Archer, a shipmate offered him his quadrant. It was a very indifferent one at best, and in one of the gales to which the Venus had been subject, it had received yet further damage, so that it was often ten or even twenty miles out of adjustment. Murray and Adair never lost an opportunity of taking an observation, while they kept their reckoning with the greatest care; but, after all, they often could only guess at their position. The weather, too, was very uncertain. Day after day down came torrents of rain—not merely English spring showers—but, as Adair observed, regular bucketsful, which compelled them to open the ports to let the water run off the decks, for fear of swamping the vessel. No people could behave better than did their little crew. Murray allowed no one to be idle. They were employed either in cleaning their arms, mending their clothes, repairing the rigging, and, when the sea was sufficiently calm, in fishing. Needham kept up his own spirits, and did his best to keep up that of his messmates. However, they were to be again severely tried. One evening, early in October, scud was seen flying rapidly across the sky, while thick masses of cloud banked up densely in the horizon. It was Adair's first watch; Murray had been about to turn in. He cast his eyes around.

"Depend on it, Adair, we are going to have a heavy blow, a regular tornado will be down on us before long, and the sooner we make everything snug the better."

Adair doubted whether there would be anything more than a squall. Just then the sails flapped ominously, and there was a perfect calm. The flame of a candle brought on deck would have ascended straight upwards.

"Adair, I tell you it will be down on us in a few minutes, and with terrific force too," exclaimed Murray. "All hands shorten sail!" Not a moment was to be lost; Needham and the rest saw that. With the exception of the fore-staysail every sail was lowered and carefully stowed; the topmasts were struck, and everything on deck was lashed and secured. All the time a dead calm continued, the atmosphere was dreadfully close, so that even on deck at times it seemed difficult to breathe, while all around became darker and darker. Suddenly a sound, like heavy thunder, was heard in the distance.

"It is the beginning of the strife—the first gun fired in action. Look there, what do you say to that?" He pointed to a bank of foam which was seen rolling up through the dense gloom towards the devoted little vessel.

"Why, I suspect that we shall find ourselves in the midst of a sea which will pretty nearly swamp us," answered Adair.

On it came, rolling and leaping, as if eager to destroy the little craft. No sooner did her head feel the force of the gale than off, like a sea-bird on the wing, she flew before it. The fore-staysail was now stowed, for, from the fury of the tornado, it would either have been torn out of the bolt-rope or run the vessel under water. On flew the little craft, the sea every instant getting up and the wind freshening.

"Hold on, all of you; hold on for your lives!" sang out Murray with startling energy.

The caution was not ill-timed. On came a monster sea, roaring astern. High above her quarters it rose, and down it rushed on her decks, wellnigh swamping her. All the hatches had before been secured; but, had not the ports been open, so as to allow the water immediately to run out, it would have swamped her. The half-drowned crew shook themselves as they once more emerged from the weight of water above them. Happily, none were washed away.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

IN PERILOUS CONDITION.

The little half-sinking schooner dashed on amid the raging seas, now lifted up to the summit of one surrounded by hissing foam, now sinking down into the gloomy hollow between others which seemed as if they were about instantly to engulf her. Again another sea struck her; and had not every one held on tight to the rigging or bulwarks, her deck would have been cleared, as it made a clean wash fore and aft.

"We must not run this risk again!" exclaimed Murray. "All hands go below; one on deck is enough. I'll take the helm. No expostulation, Adair; remember, I am commanding officer. I am determined to do it."

Adair, with a bad grace, was obliged to obey with the rest. They all went below, and Murray battened down the hatches. Lashing himself to the helm, he alone remained on deck through that fearful gale. The sea roared around the little vessel, the wind whistled through the shrouds, fierce lightnings darted from the dark heavy clouds, the thunder rattled in deafening peals, while deluges of rain and spray flew about his head and almost blinded him. Yet, undaunted as at the first, he stood like some spirit of the storm at his dangerous post.

Those below tried to sleep, to pass away the time, but so fearful was the tumult that sleep refused to visit even the seamen's eyes. Hour after hour passed by. Still, by the noise and the movement of the vessel, it was too evident that the gale continued. Adair calculated that it must already be almost day. Just then the vessel became more steady, and the noise of the storm considerably diminished. Adair was surprised that Murray did not take off the hatches. He was anxious to go on deck to relieve him. He knocked and knocked again on the skylight. He called and called out again and again. There was no answer. With frantic energy he attempted to burst open the skylight. The dreadful idea seized him that Murray, his brave and noble friend, had been washed overboard and lost.

He and his companions again knocked several times. Still there was no answer. They themselves were almost stifled with the heat of the atmosphere and the odour of the rotting tobacco and monkey-skins. "This will never do," exclaimed Adair, becoming more and more alarmed for Murray's safety. "We must force the hatches off, or break our way through the skylight." They groped about and found a handspike which had been chucked down below. "Now, lads. Heave he!" cried Adair, and getting the end under the skylight, with a loud crash they prized it off, and one after the other sprang on deck. There stood Murray lashed to the helm, and looking more like a man in a trance than one awake.

"Hillo, where am I?" he exclaimed, gazing wildly around.

"On the deck of the Venus, old fellow," answered Terence, taking him by the hand. "Right gallantly you steered us through the gale, and as soon as it fell calm you dropped asleep, and small blame to you. We did the same below, and I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you safe: we all thought you had fallen overboard." Murray was very much surprised to find that he had slept so long and so soundly, but he soon gave evidence that he had not had enough rest, for Adair had a mattress brought up and stretched under an awning on deck, and the moment he placed his head on it he was off again as soundly as before.

"We must turn to at the pumps, sir," observed Needham, coming from below. "If we don't bear a hand, I fear the craft will sink under us." Such it appeared would probably be the case, but no one was daunted. All set to work and laboured away as manfully as before. When Murray awoke he found that the schooner was again almost cleared of water. The last man to leave the pumps was Wasser. He was still labouring away, when down he sank on the deck. Murray and Adair ran to lift him up. He could scarcely open his eyes, and looked thoroughly worn out. They lifted the poor fellow to the mattress from which Murray had just risen, and as soon as the fire, which had gone out, could be lighted, they made some beef broth, which they poured down his throat. They also gave him a little rum. Alick and Terence differed as to which was the best restorative, but, unlike doctors in general, they agreed to administer them alternately. Paddy wanted to give them in equal proportions—that is to say, for every cup of broth Alick gave, he wanted to give a glass of grog; but fortunately to this arrangement Murray would not consent. He argued that one tumbler of grog, half and half, was stronger than a dozen basins of broth, and he would therefore allow only half a tumbler in the day. When Wasser was at length able to speak, to Adair's astonishment he declared in favour of the remedy of the rival practitioner, and Murray and his broth carried the day. In spite of the heat, Wasser had to be carried below, and all who could were glad to take shelter there, for down came the rain with terrific force, and continued without intermission, almost swamping the little vessel. Her crew had work enough to do all their time in keeping her clear of the water, which poured in through the leaks in bucketsful. For days and nights together no one had on a dry jacket. By such observations as they could manage to make, Murray and Adair began to suspect that all their seamanship was set at nought; for though they at times made some way through the water, they as quickly lost all the ground they had gained, and thus it became evident that there was a strong current against them.

"This is dreadfully trying," exclaimed Terence, after they had become convinced of this disagreeable fact. "Let us try and make the land again, and see whereabouts we are. Perhaps by hugging the shore we may be able to get round Cape Palmas after all." Murray agreed to this proposal, although he was not very sanguine of success. He knew that the currents were probably as strong in-shore as where they then were, but he hoped that they might possibly get a slant of wind off the land, which would enable them to stem the current, and help them along round the Cape. Murray had been making his calculations on paper.

"I could scarcely have believed that we could have been so unfortunate," he observed, looking calmly up. "For the last six days we have not made good more than four or five miles—perhaps scarcely so much. I have no wish to pay another visit to Cape Coast Castle, though I dare say the old governor would be as kind to us as before."

"I agree with you," answered Adair. "Let us stick at it. We must get the wind in our favour some day or other It does not always blow from the nor'ard, I suppose."

Like true British sailors they did stick at it. Such is the spirit which has animated the numerous brave voyagers who have explored the arctic regions, the southern seas, and the wide-spreading Pacific. At length the land was made. It was a long way, however, to the southward, or rather to the eastward of Cape Palmas. The wind fell soon afterwards, and slowly they drifted in toward the shore. Their glasses as they approached were directed at it, and they could see a number of blacks collected on the beach and evidently watching them. The part of the coast they were now off is called the Ivory Coast. As far as the eye could reach it was flat and monotonous, but along its whole extent appeared rich groves of cocoa-nut trees, extending a considerable distance inland. Here and there, embosomed by the cocoa-nut groves, they could see small villages and separate buildings, the cottages with high conical roofs, thatched with palmetto leaves. To the east appeared a long thin spit of sand, separated from the main beach by a lagoon, into which several rivers and streams appeared to fall. As they approached the shore a terrific surf was seen rolling in towards it, and breaking with a loud roar on the sand.

"What will become of our little craft if we get in among those breakers?" said Adair. "She will have hard work to swim, I suspect."

"I doubt if she will ever float through them," answered Murray. "If she does, and we are stranded, which is the best fate we can then hope to happen to us, I fear that those black gentry on the shore will not give us a very friendly reception. They are flourishing their spears as if they would like to dig them into us."

"We shall be completely in their power, and, what is the worst, we have not the means of showing fight," said Adair, watching the people on the shore through his glass. "They have some big canoes hauled up on the beach, and they seem disposed to launch them, and come in chase of us, should the rollers not send us to them."

"I wish that there was a chance of that," exclaimed Murray; "I should have very little fear of them if they came to attack us. Ah! there's a puff of wind off the shore. Our blacks have discovered it. They are wetting their fingers and holding up their hands. We may yet be able to stand off the land."

The minutes passed slowly by. They were full of the most anxious suspense. Now the promised breeze died away, and the little vessel floated helplessly in towards the dreaded surf. Now it came on again, and she was able to get a little farther off, again to be left to drift back towards the land. Then, just as her case seemed hopeless, another puff would come, and once more her sails would fill, and all on board hoped that she would make a good offing. Had they possessed sweeps, with the help of the transient breeze, they might have got to a safe distance from the land. As to anchoring, that was out of the question. Even had there been bottom to be found with such an inset, their cable would not have held them for an instant. When the schooner got near enough to the shore, they saw that the natives were still watching them eagerly, and no sooner did the breeze return, than preparations were made to launch several of their canoes. From the gestures of the blacks, Murray and Adair agreed that their intentions did not appear to be friendly, and therefore it would be wise to avoid them altogether if they could, and at all events to be prepared to receive them warmly, should they overtake the schooner. Her progress was very slow, and there appeared too great a prospect of their doing this. Every preparation was therefore made for such a contingency. The wind was light, but it appeared to be increasing, and by degrees it was evident that the little craft was forging ahead more and more rapidly through the smooth shining ocean. The negroes on shore must have seen that their chance of overtaking her was every moment lessening, and they were observed to make several strenuous efforts to launch their canoes through the surf. The first two were capsized and sent back on the beach, which the people in her (or rather out of her) very easily regained, as if perfectly accustomed to that mode of proceeding. Again, however, the canoes were righted and launched, and this time four gained the open sea. The fifth was driven back, and probably received some damage, for she was not again launched. Four large canoes full of strong active negroes, completely armed according to their own fashion, were antagonists not to be despised; still it was evident that they had not firearms, or that if they had, they must have been rendered completely useless from the thorough drenching they must have got. Night was drawing on. The wind in a few minutes drew more round to the eastward, and gave signs of once more dropping. Of course every inch of canvas the little Venus could carry was set on her, so that unless the breeze, increased it was impossible to make her go faster than she was doing through the water. As yet she was keeping well ahead of the canoes. The two midshipmen anxiously watched the proceedings of the latter. The blacks in the stern-sheets were standing up and gesticulating, and flourishing their clubs and lances, and encouraging their companions. The sun at length went down, and with the last gleam of light shed by his rays they could see the canoes still in pursuit. Darkness, however, now rapidly rose over the deep, and hid them from their view. Murray wisely bethought him of altering the schooner's course more to the southward for a short time. Nearly an hour passed, and there were no signs of the canoes. They had therefore little apprehension that they would overtake them. The schooner was hauled up again on a wind. The night passed away, and when morning broke neither the canoes nor the land were in sight.

"If the breeze lasts we may hope to regain the ground we lost last night," observed Murray. But it did not; and when once more they reached in towards the land, they found that they had made as little progress as before. Again, too, their provisions were running short. Though they might catch some fish, the supply was uncertain.

"We shall have to bear up again for Cape Coast Castle after all, I am afraid," observed Adair to Murray. "And really, Alick, if I were you, I would leave the old craft there, and let us find our way as we best can to Sierra Leone. Yet, of course, if you resolve to continue the voyage, I'll stick by you. You'll not think I hesitated about that point."

"I know full well that you'd not desert me, Paddy, even if things were ten times as bad as they are," answered Murray. "But you also know me well enough not to suppose that I would disobey my orders and abandon the schooner while she holds together. If she gets a slight repair, with a fresh supply of provisions, she will be as well able to perform the voyage as she was at first. There is no use starving, though; and as we have scarcely anything left to eat on board, we'll keep away at once for Cape Coast Castle."

The order to put up the helm was received with no little satisfaction by Needham and the rest, and in less than three days the schooner was riding safely at anchor before the old fort. The Governor received the two midshipmen with the greatest kindness.

"Well, my lads," said he, "I suppose you have had enough of this knocking about in your rotten old tub, and will not object to leave her this time. We shall soon have a man-of-war here, which will carry you up to Sierra Leone, and I will bear you free from all blame with your captain or any one else. You should no longer risk your own lives or those of your people in such a vessel."

"I am much obliged to you, sir," said Murray. "I've made up my mind long ago on the matter, but I am willing to let any of the people leave me who wish it, and will try to get others in their stead."

The Governor, who really was anxious about the safety of the young officer, whose perseverance he very much admired, the next day went on board the schooner, hoping to persuade the crew to abandon her; and expecting to gain his point under the belief that no other people would be obtained to go in her. They assembled on deck. The Governor addressed them. Murray said nothing.

"I sticks by my officers," said Needham, touching his hat and going behind Murray. Not another word did he utter.

"So do I, sir," said White, doing the same. Wasser and the other blacks, grinning from ear to ear, and scratching their woolly pates, followed Needham and White. Murray felt much gratified.

"There, sir," said he to the Governor, "you see that my men will not desert me or the ship. We are bound to continue the voyage."

"I give up all hope of preventing you," said the kind-hearted Governor, with a sigh. "However, as go you will, we will try to make you as comfortable as we can."

The Governor was as good as his word, and provisions and stores of all sorts were sent on board. There was little chance of their starving this time, though that of their going to the bottom was not much diminished, as few means were procurable of giving anything like a substantial repair to the little craft. Among other gifts Alick and Terence received a couple of parrots and a monkey. The first two were presented to Murray, the latter to Adair. The little craft was once more pronounced ready for sea. They had been employed all day in setting up the rigging, and in bending sails, when one of the men proposed a swim overboard, to cool themselves after the heat to which they had been subject. In an instant all hands were in the water swimming about round and round the vessel. The boat was in the water on the starboard side. Murray, intending to bathe afterwards, was alone on deck. Suddenly he saw the ill-omened fin of a shark rising above the water at no great distance off, and then his snout appeared, and his wicked eyes were visible surveying the scene of action. Murray shouted to Adair and the rest of the people to come on board. No one lost an instant in attempting to obey the order. Wasser alone was on the port side at the moment, and nearest to where the shark had appeared. He was a good swimmer as he had before shown, and instead of singing out for a rope with which to climb up on that side, he struck out to pass round the schooner's stern. It was a fatal resolve. Murray was watching the ominous fin. It disappeared. "Swim towards the stern! swim towards the stern! splash about with your legs, Wasser!" he cried out, running aft, and heaving the poor negro a rope. "Catch hold of this, my lad, catch hold of this!" Wasser made a spring at the rope, for instinctively he was aware what was behind him. He had half lifted himself out of the water, when he uttered a fearful shriek. The monster shark had seized him by the legs. In vain he struggled; in vain Murray hauled away to drag him out of the water; the ferocious fish would not let go his hold; the poor negro shrieked again and again. By that time Terence and Needham had climbed on board, and, coming to Murray's assistance, they leaned over the counter, and seizing Wasser by the arms, pulled him up still farther out of the water, and then White, joining them with a boat-hook, drove the point into one of the monster's eyes, when he at length opened his jaws, and retreated to a short distance, still, however, watching his writhing prey, as if ready to make another attack. It would be too horrible were I to describe the dreadful condition in which the shark had left poor Wasser's legs. One foot was entirely gone, while the other leg was bare to the bone. A mattress was got up on deck, and Murray and Adair, with all the skill they could command, set to work to doctor the negro lad, while they sent off to the port for assistance.

"No use, thank ye, massas," said Wasser, shaking his head. "Doctor no do good. My time come. Me die happy. Once me thought fetish take me, now me know where me go—who wait for me."

He pointed solemnly upwards as he spoke. The deathbed of that poor black lad might well be envied by many a proud white man. Wasser's predictions proved not unfounded. When the doctor came on board he pronounced his case utterly hopeless, and as Wasser himself entreated that he might not be sent on shore, he was allowed to remain where he was. All night the two midshipmen and Needham sat up watching him, and doing their best to relieve his pain. At daybreak they were to get under weigh, and with the dying lad on board they once more left Cape Coast Castle and shaped a course for Sierra Leone. The wind still continued light, and in order to keep them from gloomy thoughts or apprehensions, Murray set all hands to work to fish. They had plenty of lines and bait this time, and as they sailed along the sea seemed literally alive with fish of every description. There were bonettas, and dolphins, and skipjacks without number, all affording sport and very pleasant provender; while the seaman's arch-enemies, the sharks, cruised round them as if they had made up their minds that they were to become their prey. Poor Wasser had lingered on from day to day, it appearing that each hour would prove his last, when, just at daybreak on the fourth morning, after leaving harbour, he called Murray, with a faint voice, to his side. "Me go, massa! me go up dere, good-bye," he whispered, and with his hand pointing upwards, he fell back. His arms dropped by his side, and Murray saw that the faithful lad was dead. A funeral at sea is often an impressive ceremony. That of poor Wasser was short, for though there were few in attendance it was not the less sad; for by his gentle and obliging manners, and his coolness and courage in danger, he had won the affection and respect of all with whom he had sailed. The body was sewn securely up in his blankets and hammock, with such heavy weights as could be spared fastened to the feet; and when launched overboard, after Murray had read the funeral service, it shot quickly out of sight.

"Well, Tom, I don't think as how Jack Shark will be able to grab the poor fellow before he gets safely down to the bottom."

I do not know exactly what sort of a notion sailors have of the bottom of the ocean, but I rather think they have an idea that it is a comfortable sort of a place, where people can spend their time pleasantly enough, if they can but once contrive to reach it without being caught by a shark or other marine monster.