"That's about as near as we shall get to it, sir," said Tom Fillot.

"This here's the cabin, and there ought to be a locker here, with matches in it, and a lamp. Wait a moment."

There was a rustling as Mark listened, and the rush of the water came up from below, and he could feel that the schooner was gently careening over as she glided on through the calm sea.

"Hooroar!" said Tom; and the next moment there was the scratch of a match, and the little cabin was illumined, showing Tom Fillot learning over a lamp, which directly after burned up, and showed that the cabin door must have been opened while they slept, for a tub of water and a bucketful of biscuits had been thrust in.

"Look at that," cried d.i.c.k Bannock. "Now, if we'd been awake, some of us might have got out and took the schooner again."

"Not much chance o' that, messmate," said Tom Fillot. "They're too cunning not to have taken care. Don't mean to starve us, seemingly."

"Put out the light," said Mark, after a glance round, to see that Mr Russell was unchanged, and the next moment the cabin was in darkness.

"Have your arms ready," he whispered, "and keep silence. Perhaps--"

He did not finish speaking, for a faint shadow lay across the cabin skylight, and he was aware of the fact that some one must have been watching, probably listening as well.

The shadow pa.s.sed away; and mounting on the cabin table by the midshipman's orders, one of the men tried hard to find some way of opening the light, but short of breaking it open with st.u.r.dy blows of a sledge-hammer, there was no possibility of escape that way.

After a time Mark whispered with Tom Fillot as to the renewal of an ascent through the cabin window and over the p.o.o.p.

"Proof o' the puddin's in the eatin', sir," said the sailor. "Only way is to try."

"Yes, by-and-by," said Mark, "when all is quiet. Some of them are sure to go to sleep."

For there was a good deal of talking going on upon deck, and they could smell tobacco, and once there came down the rattle of a bottle neck against a gla.s.s.

So the prisoners waited patiently in the darkness, Mark discussing from time to time the possibility of the second schooner having been captured, but they had no means of knowing. One thing was, however, certain--they were sailing very gently, evidently not in pursuit, and, judging by the stars, they were going south, and thus farther away from aid.

Making a guess at its being about midnight, and when all was wonderfully still, Mark whispered his plans to the men. They were simple enough.

He told them that he should climb up over the p.o.o.p, and do so without exciting the attention of the hand at the helm, for it was possible, though doubtful, that the man set as sentry over them would be asleep.

He had no reason to expect this, but it was probable, and he was going to try it.

"Best let me go first, sir," said Tom Fillot. "You might be knocked over at once, and dropped into the sea."

"If I am, you must haul me out again," said the lad, coolly. "There's a coil of signal or fishing line there, strong enough to hold me--there, in that locker. I shall make it fast round my waist, and if I get up in safety, I shall secure it to a belaying-pin, so that it will be handy for you who follow. Mind, as silently as cats. Get it out, and make it fast. Two of you can hold the end."

There was a slight rustling sound as Tom obeyed; the line was declared to be quite new, and kept there in store; and at last, amidst the deep breathing of the excited men, Mark prepared to climb out, while his followers in this forlorn hope were eager and waiting for their turn.

The recollection of the last attempt would trouble the lad, try as he would to be calm and firm.

"I can do it in less than a minute," he said to himself; "but I wish that my heart would not beat quite so hard."

But it would beat all the same, and at a tremendous rate, as he, in imagination, saw the sentry ready to strike him down.

"Ready, sir?" whispered Tom.

"Yes. Got the line?"

"Right, sir; and we'll just keep touch of you, and pay it out. Moment you've made it fast."

"If I do," whispered Mark.

"You will, sir," said the man, confidently. "Give four jigs, and up we come. Got your dirk?"

"Yes."

"Draw it, sir; hold it in your teeth, to leave your hands free, and if any one comes at you use it. That thing can't kill."

Mark drew a deep breath, thrust himself half out of the window, turned, and gazed up.

All was perfectly silent--not a suggestion of an enemy above; and getting right out, the boy seized the carved ornamentation of the stern above the window, raised one foot, to find a resting-place on a kind of broad beading or streak, and began to climb.

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN.

ON DECK AGAIN.

Nothing of a climb up over the stern of that schooner, a trifle compared to the same task on the _Nautilus_; but it was hard work to Mark Vandean, who had to move by inches, getting well hold and drawing himself up till he was about to reach his hand over the top, when he felt one foot gliding from its support, and thought that he was gone.

But a spasmodic clutch saved him, and after clinging there motionless and in a terribly constrained att.i.tude for a time, he drew a long breath once more, reached up suddenly, got a secure hold, and then hung for a few moments before seeking about with his foot for a fresh resting-place.

To his great delight, he found one directly; and, slight as it was, it was sufficient to enable him to raise his head very slowly till his eyes were level with the edge, and he could peer over the stern rail.

That which he saw paralysed him, and he remained perfectly motionless, gazing at the black silhouette of the man at the helm seen against the dull, soft light shed by the binnacle lamp.

This man was motionless, leaning on the wheel with his back to the spectator, but the light shone softly upon the forehead of another, seated on a coil of rope not six feet from Mark, and a little to his left.

This man, whom he recognised at once as the fellow who had struck at him, was intent upon the task of shredding some tobacco up finely, and tucking it into the bowl of a pipe, dimly-seen below where the light from the lamp struck; and as Mark watched him, not daring to move for fear of being heard, the slaver finished his task.

"Open that lantern," he said shortly to the other; and, rising, he took a step forward, Mark taking advantage of the noise he made to lower his head and listen.

The next moment the man altered his mind, as he stuck his pipe between his teeth, and turning and stepping aft, he came to the stern and looked over on the port side, Mark being more to starboard.

Thump--thump--thump went the lad's heart in those perilous moments, as he clung there close to the stern, preparing to drop the moment the man made a step to knock him off into the sea, and consoling himself with the knowledge that the line was tight round his waist, and that his friends had the other end ready to haul him into safety.

They certainly were agonising moments, and yet the man did not stir, only seemed to gaze out over the sea, then downward; and at last he turned away from Mark and walked back to his companion.

"Why didn't you open the lantern?" he said, sourly.

"Hands full," came to Mark's ears, as, unable to restrain his curiosity, the lad raised his head slightly and peered over again to see the lamp opened and the glare of light fall on the thin, sharp features of the smoker, as he drew the flame into the bowl of his pipe till the tobacco was glowing. Then the lantern was closed again with a snap, and the light was softened to a faint glow, shining on the binnacle and the black, shadowy figures before it.

"Keep a sharp look-out," said the man at the helm in a harsh growl; "don't want them fellows to come up and break my head while I'm not looking."

"Not likely to. They'd better. Make out anything of the little schooner?"

"Not since I saw her light. She's ten mile away by now."

"She'll be a cable's length astern to-morrow," said the man, significantly.