The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 50

Did he hear? Did he know? If he did, Don felt certain that the scoundrel would go and report all to one of the officers, and so get it to the captain's ears.

Still there was hope. He might not have heard, and as to the New Zealand men speaking to him, they were doing that to nearly every sailor they encountered on the deck.

Still he felt that it would be better not to be seen speaking to Jem, and he crossed to another part of the ship, and stood watching the leave-taking of the visitors, who descended into their canoe laden with presents and the objects they had obtained by barter.

Tomati was the last to descend, and he was standing in the gangway with a bottle of rum and a canister of powder in his hands, when Don heard the first lieutenant say to him jocularly,--

"I say, my fine fellow: I believe if the truth was known, you slipped off from Norfolk Island, and took up your residence here."

The man made no answer for a few moments, but stood looking the officer full in the face.

"What island did you say, sir?" he said at last.

"Norfolk Island. Am I right?"

"I'm a chief of this tribe, sir," said the man st.u.r.dily, "and these are my people. I'm not an Englishman now."

He went down into his canoe, and it darted away, propelled by fifty paddles, while the lieutenant turned away laughing, and went to the captain.

"That man's an escaped convict, or I'm a Dutchman, sir," he said; and they went forward talking.

Don cast an eye round for Jem, but he was not in sight. Ramsden was though; and, go where he would for the rest of that day, Don always woke to the fact that this man was at hand, apparently taking no notice, but watching him.

It seemed as if he would never have a chance to speak to Jem about what had pa.s.sed; but at last Ramsden went below, and after a little inquiry Don learned that Jem was aloft in the foretop, helping a couple more men at repairing some of the toggles and reef points of a sail.

Don ran up as fast as his skill would allow, and had hardly reached the top when Ramsden came back on deck, and began seeking him out.

Don paused, out of sight now, to watch the man in turn, and saw him go from place to place, looking about searchingly, and undoubtedly for him.

"Hullo, my lad!" said Jem cheerily; "come to help?"

Don shook his head, and remained watching the progress of the men, but giving Jem a meaning look from time to time, sufficient to stimulate his curiosity, and make him on the _qui vive_. Then to avoid suspicion, he hurried down, and had hardly reached the deck again before Ramsden, who had again been below, came once more on deck, and remained watching him till dark.

"Let's get under the lee of this bulwark," said Don, when at last he found an opportunity for speaking to Jem alone.

"We shall get in a row if we are seen," said Jem.

"But it's too dark for us to be seen," whispered Don; and this seeming to be the case, they went into the shadow cast by one of the quarter boats, and lay down.

"What is it, Mas' Don?" said Jem in a whisper, as soon as they had satisfied themselves that they were alone.

Don related what had pa.s.sed; but Jem did not seem to take to it.

"No," he said; "he is not likely to come, and if he did, they'd hear his canoe, and nail him. What time did he say?"

"Time? There was no time named."

"Then how shall we know, my lad? We can't watch for him all night."

"Why not?" said Don excitedly. "It seems to be our last chance."

"Well, I dunno," said Jem, gloomily; "it don't seem to me like a chance at all. But I'll do what you do, my lad. I'll stand by you."

"Then let's begin our watch at once, after we've put a rope overboard from the forechains, so as to slip down when the canoe comes."

"And what then?"

"Then, Jem, we must swim to it, and they'll take us aboard."

"And the sharks, my lad?"

"Sharks!" said Don despairingly. "I'd forgotten them."

"That's what I used to do, but you always remembered."

"Jem," said Don, after a pause, "we must chance the sharks. They will not see us in the dark."

"But if--No; I won't show the white feather, Mas' Don," said Jem. "Come on, and we'll get a rope over to starboard and larboard too."

"No need, Jem," said Don. "The canoe is sure to come from the land side."

"All right, sir. Come on, and don't say another word."

Jem crept away, keeping in the shadow, and moving very slowly, so as not to attract the attention of the watch, and Don followed, while, as soon as he had gone a few yards, what looked like a dog slowly crept by on all fours close beneath the bulwark, after getting up from a crouching position just by where the pair had been discussing their chances of escape.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE ALARM.

There were so many opportunities for lying _perdu_ on the deck of a man-of-war on a dark night that the shadowy figure had no difficulty in keeping pretty close to Don Lavington and his companion as, decided now upon their course of action, they laid hold upon a stout line where it was coiled up, and after running a sufficiency over the side to touch water, made it fast close to the main chains.

This done, they went cautiously forward so as to avoid the watch, and after being nearly seen, more than once, succeeded in getting a second line over the side close to the fore chains, in happy unconsciousness of the fact that the shadowy-looking figure was watching every movement.

As is the fashion aboard a man-of-war, the actors in this scene were barefooted, and thus able to pa.s.s quietly along the well-scrubbed deck; but unfortunately for them, the sailor playing the spy had the same advantage, and kept them in view unnoticed and unheard.

Now he was lying under the bulwarks, and so close that Jem's foot almost touched his shoulder. Another time he was lying in one of the boats slung from the davits--then behind a coil of rope--behind the cook's galley--in the lee of a cask--once in a water barrel which was to be filled with the icy fluid of the river which came down from one of the mountains; always, with the activity of a monkey, contriving to be somewhere close at hand, till they stood at last, silent and watchful, about mid-way between the fore and main chains, peering out into the darkness sh.o.r.eward and listening for the faintest sound from off the sea.

It was a wonderfully still night, and though out to the east the restless waves beat heavily on reef and sh.o.r.e, their action here was a slow heaving and curling over on the black metallic sand with a sound that to those on shipboard was like a whisper, but whose movement could be seen by a faint line of lambent light just in the blackest part to leeward of the ship, where sea touched sh.o.r.e. Sometimes this was so faint as to be hardly visible to the best-trained sight; at others it was as if some phosph.o.r.escent serpent was gliding swiftly along the sands, and it was in this direction that Don strained his eyes in the hope of catching sight of Ngati's canoe, whose paddles would churn up the water and shed on either side a faint golden light.

On board there were the customary anchor lanterns, and the faint glow thrown up from the skylights; but these seemed to have scarcely any effect upon the darkness, which hung down like a pall over the vessel, and Don's spirits rose as he felt how well they were concealed. Then they sank once more, for Jem placed his lips close to his ear and whispered,--

"It's too dark, my lad; we shall never be able to see the canoe if she comes."

Just then Don pressed his arm, and they listened together to what sounded like a faint sawing noise, which stopped and was renewed several times, and was followed by a slight splash.

The sounds came from forward, apparently somewhere in the direction of the foreshrouds; but though they listened intently it was heard no more.