sir, and ask sharply why we didn’t make haste and join?”
“Most likely, Mr Murray,” said the lieutenant quietly; “but if he does we have two answers.”
“The lugger, sir.”
“Yes, Mr Murray, and the discovery of the schooner.”
“Waiting to be boarded, sir,” said the midshipman.
“Exactly, Mr Murray. Any one make out the second cutter?”
“Ay, ay, sir!” cried Tom May. “There she is, sir – miles astarn of the Seafowl, sir.”
“I wish we could signal to her to lay off and on where she is.”
“What for, sir?”
“There may be one of the narrow entrances to the great river thereabouts, and the wider the space we can cover, the greater chance we shall have of preventing the slaver from stealing away.”
Chapter Four.
The Yankee’s Food
“Grand, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, after a time. But his first words had come pouring out like a storm of blame, which gave the first lieutenant no opportunity to report what he had done. “Yes: could not be better sir. There, we are going to capture a slaver at last!”
“Yes, sir, if we have luck; and to stamp out one of the strongholds of the accursed trade.”
Then the captain became silent, and stood thoughtfully looking over the side at the indiarubber planter’s lugger.
“Humph!” he ejaculated, at last. “Rather a serious risk to run, to trust to this stranger and make him our guide.”
“So it struck me, sir, as I told you,” said the lieutenant.
“Let me see, Mr Anderson, did you tell me that?”
“Yes, sir, if you will recall it.”
“Humph! Yes, I suppose you did. But I was thinking. Suppose he plays us false.”
“Why should he, sir?”
“To be sure, why should he, Mr Anderson? All the same, we must be careful.”
Meanwhile, Murray was being cross-examined by his brother midshipman, who looked out of temper, and expressed himself sourly upon coming aboard.
“You have all the luck,” he said. “You drop into all the spirited adventures, while I am packed off with prosy old Munday.”
“Oh, nonsense! It is all chance. But didn’t you see anything, old chap?”
“Yes – muddy water; dingy mangroves; the tail of a croc as the filthy reptile slid off the tree roots into the water. That was all, while there I was cooking in the heat, and listening to old Munday prose, prose, prose, till I dropped off to sleep, when the disagreeable beggar woke me up, to bully me about neglecting my duty, and told me that I should never get to be a smart officer if I took so little interest in my profession that I could not keep awake when out on duty.”
“Well, it did seem hard, Dick, when he sent you off to sleep. I couldn’t have kept awake, I know.”
“I’m sure you couldn’t. But there: bother! You couldn’t help getting all the luck.”
“No; and you are going to share it now.”
“Not so sure, Frank. As like as not the skipper will send me away in a boat to watch some hole where the slaver might slip out. So this Yankee is going to act as pilot and lead us up the river to where the schooner is hiding?”
“Yes, and to show us the chief’s town, and the place where he collects the poor unfortunate blacks ready for being shipped away to the Spanish plantations.”
“My word, it’s fine!” cried Roberts excitedly. “And hooroar, as Tom May has it. Why, the lads will be half mad with delight.”
“And enough to make them,” said Murray. “But I say, how does it strike you?”
“As being glorious. Franky, old fellow, if it wasn’t for the look of the thing I could chuck up my cap and break out into a hornpipe. Dance it without music.”
“To the delight of the men, and make Anderson or Munday say that it was not like the conduct of an officer and a gentleman.”
“Yes, that’s the worst of it. But though of course we’re men now – ”
“Midshipmen,” said Murray drily.
“Don’t sneer, old chap! And don’t interrupt when I’m talking.”
“Say on, O sage,” said the lad.
“I was going to say that of course, though we are men now, one does feel a bit of the boy sometimes, and as if it was pleasant now and then to have a good lark.” As the young fellow spoke he passed his hand thoughtfully over his cheeks and chin. “What are you grinning at?” he continued.
“Not grinning, old fellow; it was only a smile.”
“Now, none of your gammon. You were laughing at me.”
“Oh! Nothing!” said Murray, with the smile deepening at the corners of his mouth.
“There you go again!” cried Roberts. “Who’s to keep friends with you, Frank Murray, when you are always trying to pick a quarrel with a fellow?”
“What, by smiling?”
“No, by laughing at a fellow and then pretending you were not. Now then, what was it?”
“Oh, all right; I only smiled at you about your shaving so carefully this morning.”
“How did you know I shaved this morning?” cried the midshipman, flushing.
“You told me so.”
“That I’ll swear I didn’t.”
“Not with your lips, Dicky —Dick– but with your fingers.”
“Oh! Bother! I never did see such a fellow as you are to spy out things,” cried Roberts petulantly.
“Not spy, old chap. I only try to put that and that together, and I want you to do the same. So you think this is all glorious about yonder planter chap piloting us to the slaver’s place?”
“Of course! Don’t you?”
“Well, I don’t know, Dick,” said Murray, filling his forehead with wrinkles.
“Oh, I never did see such a fellow for pouring a souse of cold water down a fellow’s back,” cried Roberts passionately. “You don’t mean to say that you think he’s a fraud?”
“Can’t help thinking something of the kind, old man.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Roberts. “I say, here, tell us what makes you think so.”
“He’s
