Mark lay still a bit, but did not go on deck, for he dropped off into a deep sleep, which seemed only to have lasted five minutes when Mr Russell came and roughly told him to turn out, flashing the lanthorn in his eyes as he awoke, puzzled and confused at the rough way in which his fellow-officer spoke. Then with a start he grasped the reality.

It was not the lieutenant holding the light, but someone else, who growled,--"Make so much as a sound and it will be your last--all but the splash going overboard. D'yer see this? Guess you do. Mind it don't go off."

There was no need for guessing; the object named was plain enough in the light of the lanthorn, being a pistol barrel, whose muzzle was about two feet from the lad's head.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

A CONFUSED AWAKENING.

"Now then, out you come."

Mark Vandean did come out of the bunk in remarkably quick time, but he was still confused, and his brain refused to solve the puzzle before him, so he, to use a familiar expression, pulled himself together. The young officer resented being spoken to in this rough manner and threatened by a stranger with an American accent, and in as haughty a tone as he could a.s.sume he cried,--

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Come, I like that. Hear him. Oh, all right," cried the man, as there was a hoa.r.s.e chorus of laughter. "Who'm I, eh, my bantam c.o.c.k? Waal, I'm Cap'n Ephrum Bynes, o' Charleston, South Car'lina. That's who I am.

And what am I doing here? I'm kicking a set o' sarcy Britishers out o'

my ship. Now you know that."

"Where's Lieutenant Russell?"

"Down in the boat, my sarcy Tom chicken; and that's all you've got to know. Say another word, and I'll have you pitched into the sea among the sharks instead of into the boat. So mind that. Bring him on deck."

Rough hands seized Mark on the instant, and as a man carrying the lanthorn stepped back, Mark saw the legs of the Yankee skipper ascending the companion ladder, and a minute later he was rudely dragged on deck, his heart beating wildly as he tried to pierce the darkness around in search of his companions. But all was pitchy black, and though his eyes wandered in search of the bright star-like lamp of the _Nautilus_, it was not to be seen. The next moment he knew why; a pleasant breeze was blowing off sh.o.r.e, hot but powerful enough to be acted upon, and in those brief moments he knew that the vessel must have sailed.

He had little time for thought. He was suddenly lifted from the deck, and he began to struggle wildly, striking out with his fists, but all in vain.

"Over with him!" cried the Yankee skipper, and a cry escaped from Mark's lips as he felt himself swung out over the side of the schooner, to fall, he expected, splash into the sea. He had time to think all this, for thought flies fast in emergencies, but his fall was partly upon someone below, partly upon the thwart of a boat, and a deep groan came from close to his ear as he looked up and saw the lanthorn resting on the schooner's bulwark, and several faces staring down.

"My compliments to your skipper," said a mocking voice, "if you ever ketch him, and tell him he's welkim to my boat. I'll take a gla.s.s o'

liquor with him if ever he comes our way.--Now then, shove off, you there forward. If you stop another minute, I'll send a pig o' ballast through your bottom."

This was said with a savage snarl, and as Mark struggled up into a sitting position, he felt the boat begin to move.

"Here, ahoy, below there! You'd best lay your head to the north," came the voice again, as the light was suddenly hidden or put out. "Your skipper made signals when the wind rose, and we answered 'em for you.

Get your oars out sharp, or you won't overtake them this year."

Then all was silence and darkness save where the movement of an oar sculling over the stern made the water flash and gleam with phosph.o.r.escence, and raised up ripples of pale lambent, golden light.

"Who's that?" said Mark, in a whisper.

"On'y me, sir," replied a familiar voice, in company with a smothered groan.

"Tom Fillot?"

"Ay, ay, sir," came back dismally. "I've got us out o' reach o' that pig o' ballast."

"But, Tom," cried Mark, excitedly, "what does it mean? Where's Mr Russell?"

"Somewheres underneath you, sir. I think you're a-sitting on him."

"There's someone lying here," cried Mark.

"Yes, sir, several someuns," said Tom Fillot. "Oh, my poor head!"

"But you don't tell me what it all means," cried Mark, angrily.

"Didn't know as it wanted no telling on, sir. Thought you knowed."

"But I know nothing. I was roused up, dragged out of the cabin, and thrown down into the boat."

"Yes, sir; so was we, and not very gently, nayther."

"Then the--" began Mark, but he did not finish. "That's it, sir.

You've hit it. The Yankee captain come back from up the river somewhere in his boat as quiet as you please, and the first I knowed on it was that it was dark as pitch as I leaned my back against the bulwarks, and stood whistling softly, when--_bang_, I got it on the head, and as I went down three or four of 'em climbed aboard. 'What's that? You there, Fillot?' I heered in a dull sort o' way, and then the poor lufftenant went down with a groan, and same moment I hears a scrufflin'

forrard and aft, cracks o' the head, and falls. Minute arter there was a row going on in the fo'c's'le. I heered that plain, sir, and wanted to go and help my mates, but when I was half up, seemed as if my head begun to spin like a top, and down I went again, and lay listening to the row below. There was some fighting, and I heered Joe Dance letting go awful. My, he did swear for a minute, and then he was quiet, and there was a bit o' rustling, and I hears a voice say, 'Guess that's all.

Show the light.' Then there seemed to me to be a light walking about the deck with a lot o' legs, and I knowed that they were coming round picking up the pieces. Sure enough they was, sir, and they pitched all the bits of us overboard into a boat alongside; and I knowed we hadn't half kept our watch, and the Yankee skipper had come back and took his schooner."

"Oh, Tom Fillot!" groaned Mark. "And was that all?"

"No, sir; for I heered the skipper say, 'Anyone been in the cabin?' And when no one spoke he began to cuss 'em for a set o' idgits, and they all went below with the lanthorn, and come up again along o' you. My word, Mr Vandean, sir, how you must have slep'!"

"Oh, Tom Fillot!" cried Mark again.

"Yes, and it is 'Oh, Tom Fillot,' sir," groaned the poor fellow. "My skull's cracked in three or four places sure as a gun."

"And the others. Oh! the others. Are they killed?"

"I dunno, sir. I ain't--not quite. Sims to me that they'd got bats, and they hit us with 'em like they do the pigs in the north country, or the cod-fish aboard the fishing smacks. My poor head feels as if it's opening and shutting like a fish's gills every time I moves my mouth."

"Are all the men here, Tom?"

"Yes, sir; I think so. If they're not, it's 'cause they're dead."

"This is Mr Russell; I can feel his uniform," whispered Mark; "and he's dead--no, I can feel his heart beating. Come here, Tom, and help me."

"I'll come, sir; but I can't help you, and it don't seem no use for me to be waggling this 'ere oar about. Just as well let the tide send us along."

There was the sound of the oar being laid along the thwart, and then of someone stumbling.

"That was most nigh overboard, sir. Wish it warn't so dark. Why, it's black. What's that?"

There was a creaking sound from a little distance, and the man whispered,--

"They're making sail, sir, and they'll creep out afore morning, and get right away."