"Sail ho! two points on the weather bow. D'ye see her, sir? There she is. Ah, now I've lost her again; but you'll see her, sir, when we lifts on the top of the next sea. There--now do you see her, sir, just under that patch of black cloud?"

"Ay, ay, I see her," I answered; for as the man spoke I caught sight of a small dark blur, which I knew must be a ship of some sort, showing indistinctly against the somewhat lighter background of cloud behind her. She was about two miles away, and was steering a course that would carry her across our bows at a distance of about a quarter of a mile if we all held on as we were going; and for a moment I wondered whether it was our enemy the pirate brig again putting in an appearance. But an instant's reflection sufficed to dissipate this idea, for, according to all the probabilities, the pirates ought by this time to be well on toward a hundred miles to the eastward of us, while the stranger was coming down, with squared yards, from the northward.

"We must contrive to attract the attention of that craft and get her to pick us up," I cried. "Have we anything in the boat from which we can make a flare?"

A hurried search was rewarded by the production of a piece of old tarpaulin that we were using as a cover and protection to our stock of provisions; and a long strip of this was hurriedly torn off, liberally sprinkled with the oil that still remained in the drum, twisted tightly up, and ignited. The flame sputtered a bit at first, probably from the fact that sea water had penetrated to the interior of the drum and mingled to a certain extent with the oil; but presently our improvised flare burst into a bright ruddy flame, which lighted up the hulls and sails of the boats and was reflected in broad red splashes of colour from the tumbling seas that came sweeping steadily down upon us.

All eyes were now eagerly directed toward the approaching ship, of which, however, we entirely lost sight in the dazzling glare of our torch. But when, after blazing fiercely for about a couple of minutes, until it was consumed, our flare went out and left us once more in darkness, there was no answering signal from the stranger, which was coming down fast before the steadily strengthening breeze.

"Make another one, lads, and light it as quickly as you can," I cried.

"We must not let her slip past us. Our lives may depend upon our ability to attract her attention and get her to pick us up. But what is the matter with them aboard there that they have not seen us? Their look-outs must be fast asleep."

"She's a trader of some sort, sir; that's what's the matter with her,"

answered one of the men. "If she was a man-o'-war, or a slaver, there'd be a better look-out kept aboard of her. If I had my way them chaps what's supposed to be keepin' a look-out should get six dozen at the gangway to-morrer mornin'."

"Hurry up with that flare, lads," I exhorted. "Be as quick with it as you like."

"Ay, ay, sir! we shall be ready now in the twinklin' of a purser's lantern," answered the man who was preparing the torch. "Now, Tom, where's that there binnacle lamp again? Shield it from the wind with your cap, man, so's it don't get blowed out while I sets fire to this here flare."

The man was still fumbling with the flare when the stranger, which was now about half a mile distant, suddenly exhibited a lantern over her bows, which her people continued to show until we had lighted our second flare, when the lantern at once disappeared. A couple of minutes later she was near enough for us to be able to make her out as a full-rigged ship of some seven hundred tons; and presently she swept grandly across our bows, at a distance of about a cable's-length, and, putting her helm down, came to the wind, with her main-topsail to the mast, finally coming to rest within biscuit-toss of us to windward.

As she did so we became aware of a man standing on her p.o.o.p, just abaft the mizzen rigging, and the next moment a hail through a speaking- trumpet came pealing across the water.

"Ho, the boats ahoy! What boats are those?"

"We are the boats of the slaver _Dolores_, captured by the British sloop-of-war _Shark_, and subsequently attacked and destroyed by a pirate," replied I. "We have been in the boats nearly thirty hours, and several of our people are wounded. We hoped to make our way to Sierra Leone, but narrowly escaped being swamped in a gale last night. I presume you will have no objection to receive us?"

The ship being apparently British, I naturally expected to receive an immediate and cordial invitation to go on board; but, to my intense surprise, and growing indignation, there ensued a period of silence as though the man who had hailed us was considering the matter. I was just about to hail again when the individual seemed to arrive at a decision; for he hailed:

"All right; bring your boats alongside."

We accordingly dowsed the sails, threw out our oars, and pulled alongside.

As we approached the lee gangway, which had been thrown open to receive us, and about which some half a dozen men were cl.u.s.tered, with lighted lanterns, the man who had hailed us before enquired:

"Will your wounded be able to come up the side; or shall I reeve a whip with a boatswain's-chair for them?"

"Thanks," I replied, "I think we may be able to manage, if your people will lend us a hand."

"How many do you muster?" asked the stranger, presumably the master of the vessel.

"Ten, all told," I answered, "of whom six are more or less hurt. We were fifteen to start with, but five were killed by the fire of the pirate."

"I'm afraid you've had a bad time, takin' it all round," said our interlocutor. "Stand by, chaps, to lend the poor fellers a hand up over the side."

"What ship is this?" I asked, when at length I went up the side and found myself confronted by a very ordinary-looking individual, attired in a suit of thin, rusty-looking blue serge, with a peaked cap of the same material on his head, who extended his hand in cordial welcome to me.

"The _Indian Queen_, of and from London to Bombay, twenty-three days out, with pa.s.sengers and general cargo," he answered.

"Well," said I, "I am exceedingly obliged to you for receiving us; for, to tell you the truth, after the experiences of last night, I am very glad to find a good, wholesome ship once more under my feet. Open boats are all very well in their way, but they are rather ticklish craft in which to face such a gale as we had last night."

"By the by," he said, "are those boats of yours worth hoisting in?"

"Yes," I said, "they are both very good boats, and it would be a pity to send them adrift if you can find room for them."

"Oh, I dare say we can do that," he answered. "Besides, the skipper might have a word or two to say about it if we was to turn 'em adrift.

By the way, Mr--er--"

"Grenvile," I prompted, continuing--"I must apologise for not having sooner introduced myself. I am senior midshipman of the _Shark_, and was prize-master of the slaver _Dolores_, which I had instructions to take into Sierra Leone."

"Just so; thank'e," answered the man. "I was going to say, Mr Grenvile, that--well, our skipper's a very queer-tempered sort of a man--he was second mate when we left home--and as like as not he may kick up a row about my receivin' you aboard--indeed it wouldn't very greatly surprise me if he was to order you all over the side again; so I thought I'd just better give ye a hint, so as you may know what to expect, and how to act."

"Indeed, I am very much obliged to you for your timely warning, Mr ---"

said I.

"Carter's my name--Henry Carter," was the reply. "I'm actin' as chief mate now, but I was third when we left London."

"I understand," said I. "But this captain of yours--he is an Englishman, I presume, and I cannot understand the possibility of his raising any objection to your receiving a party of distressed fellow- countrymen aboard his ship. And how comes he to be in command, now, if he was only second when you left home?"

"Well, sir, it's like this," answered Carter, starting to explain. Then he interrupted himself suddenly, saying:

"Excuse me, sir; I see that the hands are about to sway away upon the tackles and hoist in the boats. I'll just give an eye to them, if you don't mind, and see that they don't make a mess of the job."

With the a.s.sistance of the _Shark's_ people the boats were soon got inboard and stowed, after which my boats' crews were bestowed in the forecastle and the steerage, there happening by good luck to be just sufficient vacant berths in the latter to accommodate the wounded. This matter having been attended to, the mate remarked to me:

"There's a vacant cabin in the cuddy; but the stewards are all turned in, and it would take 'em some time to clear it out and get it ready for you; so perhaps you might be able to make do with a shakedown on the cabin sofa for to-night; or there's my cabin, which you're very welcome to, if you like, and I'll take my watch below on a sofa."

"Thank you very much for your exceedingly kind offer," said I, "but I couldn't think of dispossessing you of your own cabin, even for a single night. The sofa will serve my turn admirably, especially as I had no sleep last night, and not much during the night before. But, before I go below, I should like to hear how it comes about that the man who was second mate of this ship when she left England is now master of her. To bring about such a state of affairs as that you must have lost both your original skipper and your chief mate."

"Yes," answered Carter, "that's exactly what's happened. We've had what the newspapers would call a couple of tragedies aboard here. First of all, the skipper--who looked as strong and healthy a man as you'd meet with in a day's march--was found dead in his bed, on the morning of the fifth day out; and, next, the chief mate--who of course took command, and was supposed to be a total abstainer--was found missin', as you may say, when the steward went to call him, one morning--he'd only been in command four days, poor chap; and the mate--that's our present skipper, Cap'n Williams--gave it out that he must have committed suicide, while in liquor, by jumpin' out of the stern window--which was found to be wide-open, on the mornin' when poor Mr Mowbray was reported missing."

"Very extraordinary," commented I, stifling a prodigious yawn. "And now, Mr Carter, with your kind permission I will go below and lie down, for I feel pretty well tired out."

"Ay, that I'll be bound you do," agreed Carter. "This way, Mr Grenvile, and look out for the coamin'--it's a bit extra high."

And, so saying, he led the way into a very handsome saloon under the ship's full p.o.o.p.

The craft was not a regular Indiaman--that is to say, she was not one of the Honourable East India Company's ships,--but, for all that, she was a very handsome and comfortable vessel, and her cuddy was most luxuriously fitted up with crimson velvet sofas, capacious revolving armchairs screwed to the deck alongside the tables, a very fine piano, with a quant.i.ty of loose music on the top of it, some very handsome pictures in heavy gold frames screwed to the ship's side between the ports, a magnificent hanging lamp suspended from the centre of the skylight, with a number of smaller lamps, hung in gimbals, over the pictures, a handsome fireplace, with a wide tiled hearth, now filled with pots of plants, a capacious sideboard against the fore bulkhead, a handsome carpet on the deck, and, in fact, everything that could be thought of, within reason, to render a long sea voyage comfortable and pleasant.

The saloon occupied the full width of the ship, the sleeping cabins being below.

With pardonable pride Carter turned up the flame of the swinging lamp-- which was the only lamp burning at that hour of the night--to give me a glimpse of all this magnificence.

I quite expected that, having, as it were, done the honours of the ship, Carter would now turn down the lamp and leave me to myself; but he still lingered in an uncertain sort of way, as though he would like to say something, but did not quite know how to begin; so at length, to relieve his embarra.s.sment, I said:

"What is it, Mr Carter? I feel sure you want to tell me something."

"Well," said he, "it's a fact that I have got something on my mind that I'd like to get off it; and yet I dare say you'll think there's nothing in it when I tells you. The fact is, our present skipper's a very curious sort of chap, as I expect you'll find out for yourself afore many hours has gone over your head. Now, I want you to understand, Mr--er--Grenvile, that I'm not sayin' this because he and I don't happen to get on very well together--which is a fact; I'm not jealous of him, or of his position, because I couldn't fill it if 'twas offered to me--I'm not a good enough navigator for that,--but I think it's only right I should tell you that, as like as not, he'll not only blow me up sky-high for pickin' you and your men up, when he finds out that you're aboard, but, maybe--well, I dunno whether he'll go quite so far as that, but he may refuse to let you stay aboard, and order you to take to your boats again. Now, if he should--I don't say he will, mind you, but if he should do any such thing, take my advice, and don't go. I don't know how he may be to-morrow. If he kept sober after he turned in he'll be all right, I don't doubt; but if he took a bottle to bed with him--as he's lately got into the habit of doin'--the chances are that he'll turn out as savage as a bear with a sore head; and then everybody, fore and aft--pa.s.sengers and all--will have to stand by and look out for squalls!"