muttered Tom Fillot.

"Put out the light," said Mark sharply.

Tom Fillot drew his jacket over the lantern, and they all stood round ready for the next order.

"Haul back the chain," said Mark, in a low voice. "Fillot, stand by, ready to cut at the first hand which thrusts out a pistol." Then going close to the ventilator, he shouted down, "Below there you heard my orders. We shall show no mercy now."

A shout of defiance came up, followed by another shot, as the chain began to clink and c.h.i.n.k while being hauled back and piled round and round from the edge toward the centre.

"Stop!" cried Mark, as a thought struck him. Then in a whisper, "I'll have an anchor laid on instead of the cable, and then I'll have that run back into the tier. No: better still. Get up the biggest water cask we have."

"Ay, ay, sir," cried Tom; and, with all the alacrity of man-o'-war's men, he and his fellows went off with the lantern, and before long had a cask on deck and rolled it up to the hatchway.

"But what for I dunno," muttered Tom, "unless it's for a sentry box."

He soon learned.

"Buckets," said Mark, laconically; and as soon as these were obtained, though in full expectation of shots being fired through the wooden cover at them, he gave his orders and the chain was rapidly hauled to the deck.

But no shot was fired from below, the Americans evidently expecting that they would be attacked, and reserving their fire for the moment when the chain was all off, and the hatch thrown open.

But as the last link fell off upon the deck two men who were standing ready lifted and banged the empty cask down heavily upon the hatch, a couple of buckets of water were splashed in directly, and then as rapidly as they could be drawn from over the side, others followed and were poured in.

Those below were so puzzled that for a time they remained utterly without movement. Then as the water poured in there was a low whispering, and soon after a heaving up of the hatch a little way, but a man held on to the top of the cask on either side, and their weight proved to be too much for those who tried to heave up the hatch. Ten minutes after, the addition of many buckets of water turned the cask into a ponderous object beyond their strength.

"Right to the brim," said Mark; and the cask was filled.

"There," cried Tom; "it would puzzle them to move that."

The men below evidently thought so too, for they made no further effort, and subsided into a sulky kind of silence, while the chain was run back into the cable tier, and the watch resumed without fresh alarm till morning.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

"HATCHING MISCHIEF."

A long, busy day similar to the last, as they slowly crept along by the coast. The weather glorious, the blacks docile to a degree, and the Americans perfectly silent in their prison.

Provisions and bottles of water were lowered down to them by means of a line through the ventilator; but the prisoners made no sign.

"My!" said Tom, with a laugh, as he fastened a string round the neck of a well-corked bottle to lower it down, "won't the Yankee skipper be mad when he puts that to his lips. Being a bottle, he'll think it's rum.

Some folks can't think as a bottle would hold anything else."

But no sound came even then, and Mark began to feel anxious.

"We haven't suffocated them, have we?" he said in a low voice. "They are so very quiet."

"Not we, sir. They aren't the chaps to lie down and die without making a pretty good flurry over it fust. No sir; they're a-settin'."

"Sitting, Tom," said Mark, wonderingly.

"No, sir; setting. Hatching mischief. They'll give us another of their chickens after dark, and you and I must have a sleep apiece, so as to be ready for 'em to-night."

"Yes. We must," said Mark; and after leaving the deck in charge of Stepney and Grote, of the latter especially, as Mark felt sure that he could be trusted now, he and Tom Fillot lay down under an awning they had rigged up, and in less than a moment they were both sleeping heavily.

It was nearly sundown when Mark awoke with a start from an uneasy dream, in which he fancied that he had been neglecting his duty.

Tom Fillot was standing over him, and the lad's first words were,--

"What's the matter?"

Tom Fillot hastened to reply.

"Nothing, sir, I've been all round. Prisoners safe, rations been issued, blacks all quiet, sh.o.r.e three miles off, and nice wind from the sou'-west."

"Ah!" sighed Mark, with a feeling of relief stealing over him. "I thought something was wrong, and that I had slept too much. How is Mr Russell?"

"Just as he was, sir; lying as quiet as a babby." Mark crossed to where a bucket of water stood on the deck, signed to one of the men to empty it and draw another, and into this he plunged his face, bathing it for a few minutes to get rid of the remains of his drowsiness, while Tom Fillot fetched him a towel from the cabin.

"You haven't had half enough snooze, sir, but I thought I had better rouse you up," he said.

"Sleep? We mustn't think of any more for a couple of nights, Fillot.

Now what is the next thing to be done?"

"Nothing, sir, but wait."

"Nothing?"

"I dunno of anything, sir. Sails all right, and unless you set us to sc.r.a.pe the chain cable, I can't think of a job."

"Job? There is only one, and that is to get these two schooners safe alongside of the _Nautilus_. We must not lose them now."

"Course not, sir. We won't."

"How are the men?"

"Well, sir, you've been asleep about five hours, so they aren't had time to change much, but they've mended as much as they could in that little time."

"Of course. It was a stupid question, Tom. But about the prisoners?"

"Oh, they're quiet enough, sir. That cask o' water settled 'em."

"But are they not too quiet, Tom? I mean there is no danger of their suffering from the hatch being closed?"

"Now look here, Mr Vandean, sir; 'scuse me, but you're too easy and soft over 'em. I don't say they're comfortable, for I wouldn't like to sleep down there without having the hatch opened, but the air they've got's quite good enough for such as them."

"But you said they were very quiet, and it is startling."