Fitz the Filibuster Part 56

"Well, I don't mind the last," replied the captain, "but a dead calm would be dangerous, and sets me thinking whether it wouldn't be better to be off at once."

"Well, that depends on you," said the mate. "If it was me I should stop till night and chance it. But where do you mean to go? Right away home?"

"I don't know yet," was the reply. "For some reasons I should like to stop and see Don Ramon right out of his difficulties. Besides, I have a little business to transact with him that may take days. No, I shan't go off yet. I may stay here for months, working for Don Ramon. It all depends."

"Very well," said the mate coolly, as if it did not matter in the slightest degree to him so long as he was at sea.

From time to time the skipper in his walk up and down the deck paused to look up inquiringly, but always to be met with a quiet shake of the head, and go on again.

But about half-an-hour before sundown, just when festivities were at their height on sh.o.r.e, and the men were for the most part idling about, leaning over the bulwarks and watching as much of the proceedings as they could see, the two lads, after an hour's rest below, having returned to their look-out, Fitz suddenly exclaimed--

"There she is! But she doesn't look grey."

"No," replied Poole eagerly. "What there is of her looks as if turned to gold." Then loudly, "Sail ho!" though there was not a sail in sight, only the steamer's funnel slowly coming into sight from behind one headland and beginning to show her smoke.

All was activity now, the men starting to their different places at the bulwarks, and eagerly listening to the skipper's "Where away?"

"Coming round the south headland," replied Poole.

"That's right," said the skipper. "I can see her now."

"Well?" said Burgess.

"I shan't move yet. It will be pitch-dark in less than an hour. We can see her plainly enough with the open sea beyond her, but like as not they can't see us, lying close up here under the land. The chances are that they won't see us at all, and then we can run out in the darkness; and I suppose you will have no difficulty in avoiding the rocks?"

"Oh, I don't know," said the mate coolly. "Like as not I may run spang on to them in the dark. I shan't, of course, if I can help it."

"No," said the skipper dryly; "I suppose not."

Their task ended, the boys slid down to the deck once more, and somehow the thought of his anomalous position on board the schooner did not trouble the middy for the time being, for he was seaman enough to be intensely interested in their position, and as eager as Poole for their escape.

"Do you think the sun's going down as quickly as usual?" he said suddenly; and his companion laughed.

"What's that for?" said Fitz. "Did I say something comic?"

"Comic or stupid, whichever you like."

"Bah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fitz angrily, feeling more annoyed with himself than with Poole.

"Why of course she is going down at her usual rate."

"Sun's a he," said Fitz. "It isn't the moon."

"Thankye. You have grown wise," replied Poole sarcastically. "Do you know, I should have almost known that myself. But bother all this! I want to see the canvas shaken out ready for making a start."

"Very stupid too," said Fitz.

"Why?"

"Because the people on board the gunboat mayn't see us now, with our bare poles; and even if they could make us out they wouldn't be able to distinguish us from the other craft lying close in sh.o.r.e."

"Right," said Poole sharply. "I was getting impatient. I suppose we are going to run out through the darkness, same as we did before."

"I hope not," said Fitz meaningly. "Once was enough for a sc.r.a.pe like that."

Poole grunted, with agreement in his cones, and then they leaned over the bulwarks together forward, following the example of most of the men, who were just as keenly on the look-out, and growing as excited in the expectation of the coming adventure, all but two, who, in obedience to a growl from the mate, lowered down the dinghy and then pulled her hand-over-hand by the mooring-cable to where it was made fast to the big ring in the buoy; and there they held on, ready to slip the minute the order was given from the deck.

Meanwhile the rejoicings were going on ash.o.r.e, no one so far having become aware of the approach of the enemy, till she was well clear of the headland, with her smoke floating out like an orange-plume upon a golden sky.

"There's the signal," cried Fitz suddenly, as a ball of smoke darted out from the front of the fort, followed by a dull thud.

"Hah!" said Poole. "That's like the snap of a mongrel pup. By and by perhaps we shall hear the gunboat speak with a big bark like a mastiff.

I wonder whether they will make us out."

"So do I," said Fitz.

"It will be easy enough to sneak off if they don't."

"Don't say sneak," said Fitz.

"Why?"

"It sounds so cowardly."

"Well, this isn't the _Tonans_. The _Teal_ was made to sail, not to fight."

"Yes, of course," said Fitz; "but I don't like it all the same."

"All right, then, I won't say it again. I wonder where the dad will make for."

"Well, that will depend on whether the gunboat sights us. I say, does it make you feel excited?"

"Yes, awfully. I seem to want to be doing something."

"So do I," said Fitz, "instead of watching the sun go down so slowly."

"Look at the gunboat, then. She's not moving slowly. My word, she is slipping through the water! Why, she's bound to see us if it don't soon get dark."

The boys lapsed into silence, and as they ceased speaking they were almost startled by the change that had taken place on sh.o.r.e.

The shouting and singing had ceased; there was no sound of music, and the bells had left off their clangour; while in place there came a low, dull, murmurous roar as of surf beating upon some rocky coast, a strange mingling of voices, hurrying foot-steps, indescribable, indistinct, and yet apparently expressive of excitement and the change from joy to fear.

"It has upset them pretty well," said Poole. "Why, I did hear that they were going in for fireworks as soon as it was dark, and they fired that gun like a challenge. I shouldn't wonder if they have fireworks of a different kind to what they expect."

"Yes," said Fitz excitedly. "The gunboat will begin firing sh.e.l.ls perhaps, and set fire to the town."

"Bad luck to them if they do," cried Poole earnestly, "for it's a beautiful old place with its groves and gardens. Here, I say, Burnett, I wish this wretched little schooner were your _Tonans_, and we were going to fight for poor old Don Ramon. Don't you?"

"There's the sun beginning to go down behind the mountain," said Fitz, evading the question. "I say, how long will it be before it's dark?"