Hughes had been gazing steadily down into the deep blue water, totally regardless of all that was pa.s.sing around him.

"I was thinking," he said, "of Wyzinski's tales, of the sad remembrances this place has for him; and contrasting them with the startling events, but bright memories, it will have for me. The name of Saint Augustine's Bay will ever be dear to me."

The blood mantled in Isabel's cheeks as she answered--

"When the Senhor has done with his pleasant memories of the past, perhaps he will deign an answer to a poor maiden's question."

The men had strained at the oars until the stout ash staves creaked and bent in the rowlocks. The dark hull of the brig had slowly forged ahead, and at the moment Isabel spoke, the "Halcyon" had pa.s.sed the entrance of the harbour, and was rising and falling on the long gentle swell outside. She did not feel the wind, being under the shelter of the coast; but slight cat's-paws were playing on the water about half-a-mile ahead, and so the boats continued towing, while on board the main-topgallant and main-topsails were being sheeted home.

"There is our last sight of the Bay," said Hughes, sighing. "It must now live only in the memories of the past. Plans--no, dearest Isabel; I have been enjoying the present without care for the future."

"And now the fairy dream is over, what do you intend to do when we reach the Cape, Enrico? Surely I have a right to ask," said Isabel.

"If you have eighteen months' leave of absence, Senhor," said the n.o.ble, "come with us to Portugal for your answer; you can make your arrangements in England."

The Senhor Enrico could not have wished for a pleasanter invitation, and he eagerly closed with it.

"That topgallant sail is drawing, Mr Lowe; cast off the tow-rope, recall the boats, and hoist them in. Tell off the watch, and send the crew to supper. Let the steward give them an extra ration of grog.

Take a pull at the starboard tacks and sheets. Lay her head to the west-south-west."

The wind, which was very light, was from the eastward, consequently the brig, her yards rounded in, was running free, the boom-mainsail was hauled out, the heavy folds of the mainsail let fall, and the jib hoisted. One by one the studding-sails were set, and the black hull once more supported a towering ma.s.s of white canvas. With all this the "Halcyon" only just held steerage way, the wind coming in hot puffs from the distant mountains of the Amboitmena range, at times filling the canvas and making the bubbles fly past as the "Halcyon" felt the breeze, then dying away, while the useless sails flapped heavily with the gentle roll of the waves.

Her captain seemed silent and anxious, and would not leave the deck.

Dinner had been announced, but Captain Weber had only dived below to reappear again in a few minutes, and, telescope in hand, was sweeping the coast line with his gla.s.s. He bad evinced no signs of anxiety to his guests, but as he paced the lee gangway of the brig, he showed no such reticence to his mate.

"One hour's good blow from yonder mountains and we should be well clear of this coast," he said.

"Do you think, Captain Weber, the fellow dare attack us again after the taste he had of our quality last night?" inquired the mate.

"If the scoundrels could get possession of the brig, they would soon find the means to arm her," replied the captain; "and the west coast of Madagascar is one series of indentations, coves, and bays, fit refuges for these sort of craft."

"The clouds are resting on the top of the mountain range, sir; I fancy we shall have more wind just now. How far do you reckon we are from land?"

"About ten miles," replied the captain. "Turn the hands up on deck, Mr Lowe. Haul up the mainsail, the brig has hardly way on her, and send the men aft. We must bury our dead."

The moon was low on the horizon, shedding a dim light on the ocean, and making the long line of the Madagascar coast look black and indistinct as if seen through a haze.

Soon ranged, side by side, on a grating abaft the main chains, lay five forms covered with the ship's ensign. On the quarter-deck stood the pa.s.sengers and the remainder of the crew, while the missionary, in a clear distinct voice, read slowly the impressive burial service. All were uncovered, and the tears streamed down Isabel's face, as she looked on the inanimate forms of the brave fellows who had died to save her from worse than death. The captain laid his hand on the Union Jack, the mate made a sign, and four st.u.r.dy men advanced, placing their shoulders under the grating. "We commit their bodies to the deep, in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life," and as the solemn words rang out on the night air, the splash of the falling bodies in the sea followed. A stillness seemed to gather around, and the service for the dead finished, the crew retired to their different duties, for the time, at least, saddened and depressed, and the quarter-deck was soon left to the captain and his mate.

Slowly they paced it to and fro in eager but low conversation. The puffs of wind came down a little steadier, and the "Halcyon" was moving through the water once more. The night was beautifully fine, the stars shining brilliantly, but the moon just sinking behind a distant spit of land broad on the larboard bow. From time to time the sound of the ship's bell, tolling the hour, was heard, the creaking of the blocks and ropes, and the mournful flap of the sails as the brig rolled lazily on the long swell. All at once the mate stopped suddenly in his walk, looked earnestly towards the coast line, and then, without speaking, raised his finger and pointed towards the setting moon. It was just sinking behind a patch of forest trees, their long tapering fan-like leaves distinctly marked against the light, while, sweeping past, the spars of a small vessel could be seen, the thin whip-like sticks plainly visible against the sky. Next, the long, low black hull drew clear of the land, and distinctly revealed against the light the spars and rigging of a small schooner. Not a rag of canvas was shown, and yet slowly and with a gentle caption the dark ma.s.s glided on into the night, right on the path which the brig was taking.

The two seamen looked at each other.

"I thought as much. It is the pirate!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the captain, with a deep sigh.

"If they had chosen their weather, it could not suit them better."

Stepping aft, the captain glanced at the compa.s.s.

"Round in the weather-braces and sheets, Mr Lowe. Port, you may, Hutchins; keep her dead to the west."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the man, as the spokes flew through his fingers; and the ship's head falling off, the wind was brought nearly aft, the two vessels thus moving on almost parallel lines.

"Can you make him out now?" asked the captain, as his mate rejoined him on the quarter-deck.

Long and anxiously did the officer addressed peer into the night. The missionary joined the group, and was made acquainted with what was pa.s.sing.

"There she is," said the mate, "right on our quarter. Look! in go her sweeps, for she has made sail, and is standing on the same course as ourselves, keeping way with us under her foresail, mainsail, and jib.

That craft could close with us any moment, sir. Shall I rouse the crew?"

The captain did not speak; but stood, his elbows leaning on the weather bulwarks, looking in the direction of the schooner.

"If it is the vessel you suppose, she knows we carry guns," remarked Wyzinski; "but does not know how many. She will wait for daylight."

"You are quite right," replied the captain. "Leave the men quiet, Mr Lowe. We will keep the watch together, and may G.o.d send us wind," and here the old seaman reverently lifted his cap, "for yonder is a dreadful foe."

The sound of the bell tolled out the hours, the wind, which had freshened, towards morning died away; but all night long the three anxious watchers paced the narrow limits of the brig's quarter-deck.

Time after time did the captain turn to the compa.s.s and take the schooner's bearings. It was useless, for there, under easy sail, exactly where she had first been made out, on the brig's weather quarter, the white canvas of the pirate could be seen, never varying a point. It was evident she was waiting for daylight to close with her prey.

Volume 2, Chapter VI.

THE PIRATE SCHOONER.

Day dawned slowly, the breeze having slightly freshened towards morning, but still the long, low line of the Madagascar coast lay astern. The ocean was quite calm.

"Sail ho!" shouted one of the crew. On the quarter-deck, the captain, the mate, and Wyzinski still kept their anxious watch.

"What do you make her out, Williams?" asked Captain Weber.

"A schooner, sir, under easy sail, standing to the westward."

Again the captain took the bearings of the dangerous-looking vessel, but with exactly the same result. There she was still on the brig's weather quarter, and apparently in no sort of a hurry.

"The wicked-looking craft has the heels of us." remarked the mate; "but we shall have a cap full of wind before long, and then we may tell a different tale."

"She sees it too; there goes her fore-topsail. She is making sail,"

said the captain; then, addressing a man who happened to be pa.s.sing at the moment, "tell Captain Hughes and the foreign Don I should be glad to speak to them," he added.

The schooner showed no flag, but setting her fore-topsail, edged a little nearer the wind, so as no longer to be running on a line parallel to the brig, but on one which would eventually bring them to the same spot. The two pa.s.sengers soon stood on the deck.

"I have sent for you, gentlemen," said the captain, raising his tarpaulin as he spoke, "to decide on our course. You see yonder schooner?"

All eyes were turned to the long, low black hull and the white canvas.

"Well, I have every reason to suppose she is a pirate, whose crew have committed great ravages in these seas. Several vessels have been chased by her, and one or two having a great number of pa.s.sengers on board, the little craft, which sails like a witch, has neared them sufficiently to make this out, and has then put up her helm and made sail. But several vessels which are over due at different ports have never been heard of, not a vestige of them and their crews ever having been found. They have simply disappeared."

"But we are armed," replied Hughes, "and are double yonder schooner's tonnage."

"I know nothing of her armament; no one does," replied the seaman. "The vessels she has boarded, whose crews could tell, have, I repeat, mysteriously disappeared from the face of the ocean. The captain of the 'Dawn' told that when off the island of Mayotte, away to the northward here, a brig was in his company. The two sailed about equally. One night pistol shots were heard, and when morning broke there was no brig, but where she should have been a low, rakish-looking schooner was seen."