Part 2 (1/2)

The ruffian's design, in this savage threat, was doubtless to terrify us into submission; or, at least, so to appal and agitate us, as to make our exertions more confused and feeble. In this last calculation he may have been partially correct, for the threat was fearful, and the danger imminent; the harsh, deep tones of his voice, with the ferocious determination of his manner, sent a thrill of horror to every heart.

More than this, he could not effect; there was not a craven spirit among our number.

”Steadily!” said Arthur, in a low, collected tone; ”less than five minutes will bring us within hail of the s.h.i.+p.”

But the minutes seemed hours, amid such tremendous exertions, and such intense anxiety. The sweat streamed from the faces of the rowers; they gasped and panted for breath; the swollen veins stood out on their foreheads.

”Perhaps,” cried Luerson, after a pause, ”perhaps there is some one in that boat who desires to save his life; whoever drops his oar shall not be harmed; the rest die.”

A scornful laugh from Morton was the only answer to this tempting offer.

Luerson now stooped for a moment and seemed to be groping for something in the bottom of the boat. When he rose, it was with a musket or fowling-piece in his hands, which he c.o.c.ked, and, coming forward to the bow, levelled towards us.

”Once more,” he cried, ”and once for all, drop your oars, or I fire among you.”

”I don't believe it is loaded,” said Arthur, ”or he would have used it sooner.”

”I think it is Frazer's gun,” said Morton, ”and he fired both barrels before they murdered him; there has been no time to reload it.”

The event showed the truth of these suspicions; for, upon seeing that his threat produced no effect, Luerson resumed his seat in the bows, the helm having been given to one of the men not at the oars.

We were now close upon the point, and, as I glanced from our pursuers to the s.h.i.+p, I began to breathe more freely. They had gained upon us; but it was inch by inch, and the goal was now at hand. The long-boat, though pulling eight oars, and those of greater length than ours, was a clumsier boat than the yawl, and at present heavily loaded; we had almost held our own with them thus far.

But now Luerson sprang up once more in the bow of the long-boat, and presented towards us the weapon with which he had a moment before threatened us; and this time it was no idle menace. A puff of smoke rose from the muzzle of the piece, and, just as the sharp report reached our ears, Browne uttered a quick exclamation of pain, and let fall his oar.

For a moment all was confusion and alarm; but Browne, who had seized his oar again almost instantly, declared that he was not hurt; that the ball had merely grazed the skin of his arm; and he attempted to recommence rowing; before, however, he had pulled half-a-dozen strokes, his right hand was covered with the blood which streamed down his arm.

I now insisted on taking his oar, and he took my place at the helm.

While this change was being effected, our pursuers gained upon us perceptibly. Every moment was precious. Luerson urged his men to greater efforts; the turning point of the struggle was now at hand, and the excitement became terrible.

”Steer close in; it will save something in distance,” gasped Morton, almost choking for breath.

”Not too close,” panted Arthur; ”don't get us aground.”

”There is no danger of that,” answered Morton, ”it is deep, off the point.”

Almost as he spoke, a sharp, grating sound was heard, beneath the bottom of the boat, and our progress was arrested with a suddenness that threw Max and myself from our seats. We were upon a ledge of coral, which at a time of less excitement we could scarcely have failed to have observed and avoided, from the manner in which the sea broke upon it.

A shout of mingled exultation and derision, as they witnessed this disaster, greeted us from the long-boat, which was ploughing through the water, but a little way behind us, and some twenty yards further out from the sh.o.r.e.

”It is all up,” said Morton, bitterly, dropping his oar.

”Back water! Her stern still swings free,” cried Arthur, ”the next swell will lift her clear.”

We got as far aft as possible, to lighten the bows; a huge wave broke upon the ledge, and drenched us with spray, but the yawl still grated upon the coral.

Luerson probably deemed himself secure of a more convenient opportunity, at no distant period, to wreak his vengeance upon us: at any rate there was no time for it now; he merely menaced us with his clenched fist, as they swept by. Almost at the same moment a great sea came rolling smoothly in, and, as our oars dipped to back water, we floated free: then a few vigorous strokes carried us to a safe distance from the treacherous shoal.

”One effort more!” cried Arthur, as the mutineers disappeared behind the point; ”we are not yet too late to give them a warning, though it will be but a short one.”