Fitz the Filibuster Part 2

A low hissing sound suggestive of his vexation now escaped his lips, for to his rage and disgust he saw plainly enough that their light must have been noticed.

Fitz Burnett had come to the same conclusion, for though he strained his eyes with all his power, the Will-o'-the-Wisp-like light that they were chasing had disappeared.

"Gone!" thought the boy, whose heart was now beating heavily. "They must have seen our light and taken alarm. That's bad. No," he added to himself, "it's good--capital, for it must mean that that was the light of the vessel we were after. Any honest skipper wouldn't have taken the alarm."

"Use your eyes, Burnett, my lad," whispered the lieutenant, bending down. "We must have been close up to her when that idiot gave the alarm. See anything?"

"No, sir."

"Oh, tut, tut, tut, tut!" came in a low muttering tone.

"Look, boy, look; we must see her somehow. How are we to go back and face the captain if we fail like this?"

The boy made no reply, but strained his eyes again, to see darkness everywhere that appeared to be growing darker moment by moment, except in one spot, evidently where the land lay, and there a dull yellowish light glared out that seemed to keep on winking at them derisively, now fairly bright, now disappearing all at once, as the lantern revolved.

"Hold hard!" whispered the lieutenant, and the men lay on their oars, with the boat gradually slackening its speed till it rose and fell, rocking slowly on the choppy sea, and the eye-like lantern gave another derisive wink twice, and then seemed to shut itself up tight.

"It's of no use to pull, Burnett," whispered the lieutenant. "We may be going right away. See anything, my lads?"

"No, sir," came in a low murmur, and the culprit who had gone to sleep sat and shivered as he thought of the "wigging," as he termed it, that would be his when he went back on board the gunboat; and as the boat rocked now in regular motion the darkness seemed to grow more profound, while the silence to the midshipman seemed to be awful.

He was miserable too with disappointment, for he felt so mixed up with the expedition that it seemed to him as if he was in fault, and that when they returned he would have to share in the blame that Captain Glossop would, as he termed it, "lay on thick."

"Oh, Mr Bill Smith," he said to himself, "just wait till we get back!"

And then a reaction took place.

"What's the good?" he thought. "Poor fellow! He'll get it hot enough without me saying a word. But how could a fellow go to sleep at a time like this?"

"It's all up, Burnett," came in a whisper, close to his ear. "The milk's spilt, and it's no use crying over it, but after all these preparations who could have expected such a mishap as that?--What's the matter with you?" he added sharply. "You'll have me overboard."

For the midshipman had suddenly sprung up from where he sat, nearly overbalancing his superior officer as he gripped him tightly by the chest with the right hand, and without replying stood rigidly pointing over the side with his left, his arm stretched right across the lieutenant's breast.

"You don't mean--you can see--Bravo, boy!--Pull, my lads, for all you know."

As he spoke he dropped back into his seat, tugging hard with his right hand at one of the rudder-lines, with the result that as the cutter glided once more rapidly over the little waves she made a sharp curve to starboard, and then as the line was once more loosened, glided on straight ahead for something dim and strange that stood out before them like a blur.

As the men bent to their stout ash-blades, pulling with all their might, a great thrill seemed to run through the cutter, which, as it were, partic.i.p.ated in the excitement of the crew, boat and men being for the time as it were one, while the dark blur now rapidly a.s.sumed form, growing moment by moment more distinct, till the occupants of the stern-sheets gradually made out the form of a two-masted vessel gliding along under a good deal of sail.

She had so much way on, as the cutter was coming up at right angles that instead of beating fast, Fitz Burnett's heart now continued its pulsations in jerks in his excitement lest the schooner should glide by them and leave them behind.

It was a near thing, but the lieutenant had taken his measures correctly. He was standing up once again grasping the rudder-lines till almost the last moment, before dropping them and giving two orders, to the c.o.xswain to hook on, and to the crew to follow--unnecessary orders, for every man was on the _qui vive_, knew his task, and meant to do it in the shortest possible time.

And now a peculiar sense of unreality attacked the young midshipman, for in the darkness everything seemed so dream-like and unnatural. It was as if they were rowing with all their might towards a phantom ship, a misty something dimly-seen in the darkness, a ship-like shape that might at any moment die right away; for all on board was black, and the silence profound. There was nothing alive, as it were, but the schooner itself, careening gently over in their direction, and pa.s.sing silently before their bows.

One moment this feeling strengthened as Fitz Burnett dimly made out the c.o.xswain standing ready in the bows prepared to seize hold with the boat-hook he wielded, while the men left their oars to swing, while they played another part.

"The boat-hook will go through it," thought the lad, as, following the lieutenant's example, he stood ready to spring up the side. The next moment all was real, for the cutter in response to a jerk as the c.o.xswain hooked on, grated against the side and changed its course, gliding along with the schooner, while, closely following, their officers, who sprang on board, the little crew of stout man-of-war's men sprang up and literally tumbled over the low bulwarks on to the vessel's deck.

For a short period during which you might have counted six, there was nothing heard but the rustle of the men's movements and the _pad, pad, pad_ of their bare feet upon the deck.

"Where's the--"

What the lieutenant would have said in continuation was not heard.

Surprised by the utter silence on board, he had shared with Fitz the feeling that they must have boarded some derelict whose crew, perhaps in great peril, had deserted their vessel and sought safety in the boats.

But the next moment there was a sudden rush that took every one by surprise, for not a word was uttered by their a.s.sailants, the thud, thud, thud of heavy blows, the breathing hard of men scuffling, followed by splash after splash, and then one of the schooner's masts seemed to give way and fall heavily upon Fitz Burnett's head, turning the dimly-seen deck and the struggling men into something so black that he saw no more.

CHAPTER THREE.

WAKING UP.

It is a curious sensation to be lying on your back you don't know where, and you can't think of the reason why it should be so, but with your head right off, completely detached from your body, and rolling round and round like an exceedingly heavy big ball, that for some inexplicable reason has been pitched into a vast mill on purpose to be ground, but, probably from its thickness and hardness, does not submit to that process, but is always going on and on between the upper stone and nether stone, suffering horrible pain, but never turning into powder, nor even into bits, but going grinding on always for a time that seems as if it would never end unless the millstones should wear away.

That is what seemed to be the matter with Fitz Burnett, for how long he could not tell. But a change came at last, with the gnawing, grinding pain becoming dull. Later on it did not seem that his head was detached from his body, and he had some undefined idea that his hands were where he could move them, and at last, later on still, he found himself lying in comparative calmness and in no pain, but in a state something between sleeping and waking.

Then came a time when he began to think that it was very dark, that he was very tired, and that he wanted to sleep, and so he slept. Then again that it was very light, very warm, and that something seemed to be the matter with his berth, for he was thinking more clearly now. He knew he was lying on his back in his berth, and curiously enough he knew that it was not his berth, and while he was wondering why this was, something tickled his nose.

Naturally enough as the tickling went on, pa.s.sing here and there, he attributed it to a fly upon his face, and his instinct suggested to him to knock it off. He made a movement to do this quickly and suddenly, but his hand fell back upon his chest--whop! It was only a light touch, but he heard it distinctly, and as the movement resulted in dislodging the fly, he laughed to himself, perfectly satisfied. He felt very comfortable and went to sleep again.

Hours must have pa.s.sed, and it was light once more. He turned his head and looked towards that light, to see that it was dancing and flashing upon beautiful blue water all rippled and playing under the influence of a gentle breeze. He could not see much of it, for he was only looking through a round cabin-window. This was puzzling, for there was no such window as that in the gunboat, and the mental question came--where was he?

But it did not seem to matter. He was very comfortable, and that dancing light upon the water was one of the most lovely sights he had ever seen. He thought that it was a beautiful morning and that it was very nice to lie and watch it, but he did not think about anybody else or about whys or wherefores or any other puzzling problems, not even about himself. But he did think it would be pleasant to turn himself a little over on his side with his face close to the edge of the berth, and take in long breaths of that soft, sweet air.

Acting upon this thought, he tried to turn himself, and for the first time began to wonder why it was that he could not stir; and directly after he began to wonder what it was he had been dreaming about; something concerning his head aching horribly and going round and round in a mill.

It was while he was obliged to give this up as something he could not master that he heard a click as of a door opening, and the next moment some one came softly in, and a face was interposed between his and the cabin-window.

It was a rather rough but pleasant-looking face, with dark brown eyes and blackish curly hair, cut short. The face was a good deal sunburnt too. But he did not take much notice of that; it was the eyes that caught his attention, looking searchingly into his, and Fitz waited, expecting the owner of the eyes would speak; and then it seemed to him that he ought to ask something--about something. But about what? He did not quite know, for he felt that though he was wide-awake he could not think as he should. It was as if his apparatus was half asleep.

But the owner of the eyes did not say anything, only drew back and disappeared, and as he did so, Fitz found that he could think, for he was asking himself how it was that the fellow who had been looking at him had disappeared.

He came to the conclusion directly afterwards that it was a dream. Then he knew it was not, for he heard a gruff voice that seemed to come through the boards say--

"All right, Poole. Tumble up directly. What say?"

"He's awake, father, and looks as if he had come to himself."

"Eh? Oh, that's good news. Come and see him directly."

Now Fitz began to think fast, but still not about himself.

"Father, eh?" he thought. "Whose father is he? He said he was coming to see some one directly. Now I wonder who that may be."

That was as much as Fitz Burnett could get through upon this occasion, for thinking had made his eyelids heavy, and the bright flashing water at which he gazed seemed to grow dull and play upon the boards of his berth just over his head and close at hand.

From growing dull, this rippling water grew very dark indeed, and then for some time there was nothing more but sleep--beautiful sleep, Nature's great remedy and cure for a heavy blow upon the head that has been very close upon fracturing the bone, but which in this case fell so far short that Fitz Burnett had only had severe concussion of the brain.