Cormorant Crag - Part 80
Library

Part 80

"Yah!" he roared: "vat for you make zat row?"

"The lugger! She's sinking," cried the boys together.

"I com in and sink you," roared the captain. "Go to sleep, bose of you."

"But the door's locked."

"Yais, I lock him myself. _Silence_!"

Then the lugger was not sinking; but the faint creaking and grinding went on after the captain had gone back on deck, and the boys stood listening to the orders given and the hurrying to and fro of men.

"She must be on a rock, Cinder," said Mike, in a half-stifled voice.

"No rocks here. On a sandbank, and they're trying to get her off."

Then there was a rattling and banging noise, which came through the bulkhead.

"Why, they're taking up the hatches over the hold."

"Yes," said Vince bitterly; "they're thinking more of saving the bales than of us."

"Down vis you, and pa.s.s 'em up," cried the captain; and, for what seemed to be quite a couple of hours, they could hear the crew through the bulkhead busy in the hold fetching out and pa.s.sing up the bales on to the deck in the most orderly way, and without a bit of excitement.

"Can't be much danger," said Vince at last, "or they wouldn't go on so quietly as this."

"I don't know," said Mike bitterly; "it must be bad, and they will forget us at last, and we shall be drowned, shut up here."

"Don't make much difference," said Vince, with a laugh. "Better off here. Fishes won't be able to get at us and eat us afterwards."

"Ugh! how can you talk in that horrid way at a time like this!"

"To keep up our spirits," said Vince. "Perhaps it isn't so bad. She's on a bank, I'm sure, and perhaps--yes, that's it--they're trying to lighten her and make her float."

"They're not," said Mike excitedly. "Why, they're bringing other things down. You listen here."

Vince clapped his ear to the bulkhead and listened, and made out plainly enough that for every bale pa.s.sed up a box seemed to be handed down, and these were being stacked up against the part.i.tion which separated them from the hold.

"I say, what does it mean?" whispered Mike at last.

"I don't know," replied Vince; "but for certain they're bringing in things as well as taking them away. Then we must be in port, and they're landing and loading up again."

"Oh, Cinder! and we can't get ash.o.r.e and run for it."

"No; he's too artful for us this time. That's why he has locked us up.

Never mind; our turn will come. He can't always have his eyes open."

"Is there any way of getting out?"

"Not now," said Vince thoughtfully; "but we might get one of those boards out ready for another time. They're wide enough to let us through."

The soft creaking and grinding sounds went on, but were attributed to the lugger being close up to some pier or wharf, and the boys stood with their ears close to the bulkhead, trying to pick up a word now and then, as the men who were below, stowing the fresh cargo, went on talking together.

But it was weary work, and led to nothing definite. They knew that the loading was going on--nothing more.

"Well, we are clever ones," said Vince at last; and he laid hold of the wooden shutter which let in light and air to the narrow place, but only let his arm fall to his side again, for it was firmly secured.

"Never mind," he added; "we'll make it all straight yet."

Hours had gone by, and from the bright streaks of light which stole in beneath and over the door they knew that it was a fine morning; and, as the dread had all pa.s.sed away, they finished dressing, and sat in an awkward position against the edge of the bottom bunk, listening to the bustle on deck, till all at once it ceased and the men began to clap on the hatches once again.

Then, as they listened, there came the sound of ropes being cast off, the creaking and grinding ceased, the captain shouted something, and was answered from a distance, and again from a greater distance, just as the lugger heeled over a little, and there came the rattle and clanging of the capstan, with the heave-ho singing of the men.

"We're under way again, Mike," said Vince; "and there's no chance of a run for the sh.o.r.e this time."

He had hardly spoken when the heavy tread of the captain was heard once more, and he stopped at the door to shoot a couple of bolts.

"_Bon jour, mes amis_. You feel youselfs ready for ze brearkfas?"

Vince did not reply, and the captain did not seem to expect it, for he walked into the cabin, while the boys went on deck, to find that the men were hoisting sail, while a three-masted lugger, of about the same build as the one they were on, was a short distance off, making for the mouth of the muddy river astern. They were about in the same place as they were in when anchor was cast overnight, and it became evident to the boys that the noise and grinding they had heard must have been caused by the two vessels having been made fast one to the other while an exchange of cargo took place.

"Where next?" thought Vince, as their sails filled in the light, pleasant breeze of the sunny morning.

He was not long in doubt, for upon walking round by the steersman the compa.s.s answered the question--their course was due south.

"Aha! you take a lesson in box ze compais," said a voice behind them.

"Good: now come and take one, and eat and drink. It is brearkfas time."

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

"TO VISTLE FOR ZE VIND."

Four days pa.s.sed in the quiet, uneventful way familiar on board a small vessel, with the prisoners sinking into that state of apathy known as accepting the inevitable. They were weary of condoling with one another, and telling themselves that sooner or later their chance for escape would come. They bore their position good-temperedly enough, chatted with the sailors, took a turn or two at steering under the guidance of the man at the helm, and received a nod of approbation from the captain when he saw what they were doing.

"Aha, yais," he said, showing his teeth. "You vill be my first and second officer before long, and zen ve sall all be ze grand contrabandiste."

"Oh, shall we?" said Vince, as soon as they were alone. "We shall see about that."

The captain had been amiable enough to them, and had the boys only felt that those they loved were well and possessing the knowledge that they were safe, the life would have been pleasant enough; but the trouble at home hung like a black cloud over them, and whenever they met each other's eyes they could read the care they expressed, and the feeling of misery deepened for awhile.

They went to bed as usual that fourth night, but towards morning Vince somehow felt uneasy; and at last, being troubled by thirst, he determined to go up on deck and get a pannikin of water from the cask lashed by the mainmast.

He half expected to find the door fastened, but it yielded to a touch; and, after listening at the cabin for a few moments to try and find whether the captain was asleep, he crept up on deck in the cool grey of the coming morning, and, looking back, saw the man at the helm, and forward two more at the look-out.

He had not many steps to go, and there was the pannikin standing ready, and the cover of the cask had only to be moved for him to dip out a tinful of the cool, fresh water, which tasted delicious; and, being refreshed by the draught, he was about to descend, when the beauty of the sea took his attention. The moon was sinking in the west and the dawn was brightening in the east, so that the waves were lit up in a peculiar way. On the side of the moon they glistened as though formed of liquid copper, while on the side facing the east they were of a lovely, pearly, silvery, ever-changing grey. So beautiful were the tints and lights and shades that Vince remained watching the surface of the sea for some minutes, and then the chill wind suggested that he should go down; when, making a sweep round, he felt as if his breath had been taken away, for there, away to the south, and looming up of huge height and size in the morning mist, was unmistakably the Crag, and they were once more close to home.

Here, then, was the answer to the question they had asked one another-- Where are we sailing to now?