"Then light it, sir, and only blow at it so as to make the smoke show now and again. Have a lighted lanthorn under the bulwarks, and shove the end in now and then. It'll make it all look so quiet and safe aboard that they'll walk right into the trap."

Mark did as he was requested, but with a good deal of discomfort; and then waited with a throbbing heart, and a strong desire to cough and sneeze from time to time as he marched about the deck, stopping to use his gla.s.s, and making out a tall, thin man similarly armed with a gla.s.s, and wearing a Panama hat as well.

But there was no sign of a black on board. Some half-dozen ordinary-looking sailors lounged about the deck, and save that it was such a smartly-built heavily-rigged craft, there was not a trace of her being anything but an ordinary trader.

Matters went exactly as Mark desired, the stranger schooner gliding nearer and nearer, while the midshipman's heart beat faster, and he trembled lest a glimpse should be caught of the armed boat hanging from the davits, with her keel just dipping into the water from time to time.

But by clever steering it was kept out of sight, and when the right moment came a turn or two of the wheel sent the schooner a little way ahead, and then another turn, and she swept round a little, her sails shivered, and she lost way, while the stranger hailed them as she came closer, and was thrown up head to wind.

By this time the two schooners were not above fifty yards apart, and a hail came in decidedly American tones,--

"I'll send a boat aboard."

There was a little movement, and Mark lay waiting for his time, for this action on the part of the stranger was thoroughly playing into his hands.

The American's boat was lowered down on the side farthest from them, with the skipper sitting aft with four men to row; and as her head appeared round the stern, Mark dropped over into his own boat. The falls were cast off as she dropped into the water, and bidding the men give way, she shot off round the schooner's bows, the Panama hat gave place to the naval cap, the jacket was hurried on, and away they went for the stranger, whose crew on board stared in astonishment over the bulwarks at the man-of-war's men, while a horrible thought struck the young officer.

He was going to seize the stranger vessel, but he had left his own almost unprotected, and the Yankee skipper was being rowed to her.

"I'm playing dog and the shadow, after all, Tom," he whispered, excitedly.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"Suppose the Yankee seizes our prize while we try to take his schooner."

"Murder!" exclaimed Tom Fillot, leaping up in the stern-sheets. "I never thought of that."

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

TRADING WITH THE AMERICAN.

For a few brief moments Mark was ready to turn back and make sure of his prize, but every stroke was carrying him nearer to the stranger, and in less time than it takes to describe it, he found out that he had alarmed himself with his own bugbear.

For the Yankee skipper, apparently taken quite aback at the sight of the armed boat's crew, began by ordering his men to stop, and then turned and had himself rowed back as swiftly as possible, with the result that the boats reached the two sides of the second schooner nearly together.

And as Mark scrambled up and over the stern, in spite of the menacing looks of three men at the side, who, however, fell back before Tom Fillot and those who followed, the Yankee master stepped over the bulwarks too, and advanced to meet Mark.

"How are yew?" he said, coolly. "Didn't know yew was coming aboard.

Can yew trade me a barrel or two o' good whites flour? I'm running rayther short."

"Perhaps I can," said Mark, sharply, as he cast an eye over the deck.

"What ship's this?"

"Ef yew'd looked at her starnboard yew'd hev seen, mister. She's the _Mariar B Peasgood_, o' Charleston, South Carlinar, trading in notions.

What's yourn?"

"Prize to her Britannic Majesty's ship _Nautilus_."

"Prize schooner, eh?" said the American, coolly, gazing over Mark's shoulder at the graceful little vessel. "Wal, I am surprised. I said as she looked a clipper as could sail a few."

"Your papers, please."

"Eh? Oh, suttunly. Air yew an officer?"

"Yes," replied Mark, shortly. "Your papers, please."

"Wall, I thowt _we_ was pretty smart, and made skippers of our boys in mighty good time, but you beat us. I give in. Ephrim, fetch up them thar papers outer my cabin."

A sour-looking fellow with a villainous grin slouched to the little cabin-hatch; and by this time the whole of the boat's crew, including the two blacks, and saving the c.o.xswain, who held on to the chains, were aboard, Tom Fillot scanning the deck eagerly for some sign of the nefarious traffic, but none was visible.

"Guessed yew was pirates for a moment, mister," said the skipper. "Yew quite scarred me, and I kim back in a hurry, thinking yew meant robbery on the high seas. Hev a cigar?"

He held out a handful, which he had taken from his pocket, and all in the coolest, most matter-of-fact way.

"Thanks, no," said Mark. "I don't smoke."

"He--he!" laughed the American; "yew needn't be shamed on it. Yewr cap'en don't like it, p'r'aps; but I see yew pulling away at a cigar threw my gla.s.s."

Mark turned crimson.

"Needn't tell a cracker about it, squaire. Here we are," he continued, taking the papers from Ephraim--evidently his mate. "Hev a look at 'em, squaire; but I reckon if one of our officers was to board one of your traders, and ask for 'em, yewr folk'd make no end of a fizzle about it."

Mark felt uncomfortable as he took and glanced through the papers, which were all in the most correct style. There was not a point upon which he could seize; and without some grounds he had no right to search the vessel, whose hold looked to be closely battened down, while there was not a sound to suggest that there were slaves on board.

"We've made a mistake," he thought, as the writing on the papers seemed to dance before his eyes; "and yet I could have sworn she was a slaver."

"Find 'em all right and squaire?" said the American, with his little grey eyes twinkling; and he held out his hand for the papers.

"Yes," said Mark, returning them reluctantly, and then glancing at Tom Elliot, whose countenance was a puzzle.

"That's right, squaire; that's right. Theer, I shan't cut up rusty, though I might, of course. It was yewr dewty, I s'pose."

"Yes, of course," said Mark.

"That's right, squaire. Allus dew yewr dewty. I ain't riled. But yew'll trade that barl or tew o' whites flour with me, I reckon, and anything I've got you shall hev. What dew yew say to some Chicago pork?

Rale good."

"I--a--thank--you, no," said Mark, looking wildly round in the hope of finding some excuse for ordering his men to search the vessel; "but you shall have the flour if I can find it."

"That's what I call real civil, mister," said the American, advancing, and backing Mark toward the side, for the lad gave way, feeling that he had no excuse for staying. "Smart schooner that o' yewrn. Guess yew could sail round my old tub. Won't take a cigar?"

"No, no: thanks," cried Mark, turning to Tom Fillot. "We can do nothing more," he whispered.

"No, sir," said Tom, saluting. "He's too many for us. And yet I could swear to it."

Disappointed, confused, and angry at his position, Mark felt that he must give up, and that a far more experienced officer would have done the same. Turning to his men, he gave orders for them to go down into the boat, and then, telling the skipper to come on board the schooner, he gave another glance forward at the hatches, straining his ears to catch the slightest sound, meaning, if he heard either groan or cry, to seize the vessel at once and search. Without such a sign or sound he dared not. It would have been overstepping his authority.

"Ready, mister? Guess I'll come in my own boat," said the American; and he backed Mark farther to the side.