The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 55

"I don't believe they can, sir; and if they can, they won't see us long.

Shouldn't be surprised if they lowered a boat."

"Ah! Look out!" whispered Don. "Shall we dive?"

For he heard the clicking of the muskets as they missed fire.

"Well, I do call that cowardly," said Jem, as he heard the order to load; "shooting at a couple of poor fellows just as if they was wild duck."

"Swim faster, Jem," said Don, as he gazed back over his shoulders at the lights as the shots rang out.

"No, no; swim slower, my lad. They can't see us; and if they could, I don't believe as the men would try and hit us. Ah! Not hit, are you?"

"No, Jem; are you?"

"Not a bit of it, my lad. There they go again. Steady. We're all right now, unless a boat comes after us. We shall soon get ash.o.r.e at this rate, and the tide's helping up, and carrying us along."

"Toward sh.o.r.e, Jem, or out to sea?"

"Sh.o.r.e, of course," said Jem, as he swam on his side, and kept an eye on the faint lights of the ship. "Say, Mas' Don, they won't hang us, will they, if they ketches us?"

"What made you say that?"

"Because here comes a boat after us.--Hear the skipper?"

"Yes; but the canoe--where is the canoe?"

Don raised himself, and began to tread water, as he looked in the direction where they had seen the water flash beneath the paddles.

"I dunno, my lad. Can't see nothing but the lights of the ship. Better swim straight ash.o.r.e. We sha'n't be able to see no canoe to-night."

They swam steadily on, hearing only too plainly the plans made for their recapture. The orders, the creaking of the falls, even the plash made by the boats, as they kissed the water, and the dull rattle of the oars in the rowlocks was carried in the silence of the night distinctly to their ears, while the regular plash, plash, plash, as the oars dipped, sent a thrill through Don, and at times seemed to chill his energy.

But these checks were almost momentary. There was a sense of freedom in being away from the ship, and, in spite of the darkness, a feeling of joyous power in being able to breast the long heaving swell, and pa.s.s on through the water.

"Better not talk, Mas' Don," whispered Jem, as they swam; "sound goes so easily over the water."

"No, I'm not going to talk," said Don; "I want all my breath for swimming."

"Don't feel tired, do you?"

"Not a bit."

"That's right, lad. Stick to it steady like. Their lanthorns aren't much good. Don't you be skeart; we can see them plain enough, but they can't see us."

"But it seems as if they could," whispered Don, as they saw a man standing up in the bows of one of the boats, holding a lanthorn on high.

"Yes, seems," whispered Jem; "but there's only our heads out of water, and only the tops o' them sometimes. Say, that must ha' been fancy about the canoe."

"No, Jem; she's somewhere about."

"Glad on it: but I wish she'd come and pick us up."

They swam on silently toward the sh.o.r.e, listening to the shouts of the men, and watching alternately the lights of the boats and those of the ship.

All at once a curious noise a.s.sailed Don's ear.

"What's the matter, Jem?" he whispered, in alarm.

"Matter?" said Jem, greatly to his relief. "Nothing, as I knows on."

"But that noise you made?"

"I didn't make no noise."

"You did, just now."

"Why, I was a-larfin' quiet-like, so as to make no row."

"Oh!"

"Thinking about them firing a volley at us in the dark. Wonder where the bullets went?"

"Don't talk, Jem; they may hear us."

"What! A whisper like that, my lad? Not they. Boats is a long way off, too, now."

The excitement had kept off all sense of fear, and so far Don had not seemed to realise the peril of their position in swimming through the darkness to land; for even if there had been a canoe coming to their help, the lowering of the boats seemed to have scared its occupants away, and though the sea was perfectly calm, save its soft, swelling pulsation, there were swift currents among the islands and points, which, though easily mastered by canoe or boat with stout rowers, would carry in an imperceptible manner a swimmer far from where he wished to go.

But they swam steadily on for some time longer, Jem being the first to break the silence.

"Say, Mas' Don," he whispered, "did you hear oars?"

"No, Jem."

"I thought I did. I fancy one of the boats put off without a lanthorn.

Weren't there three?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Well, you can see two of 'em easy like."

"Yes, Jem; I can see."

"Then there's another cruising about in the dark, so we must be careful."

There was another interval of steady swimming, during which they seemed to get no nearer to the sh.o.r.e, and at last Jem spoke again.

"Say, Mas' Don, don't you feel as if you'd like a cup o' tea?"