Читать книгу Where Duty Called: or, In Honor Bound - Browne George Waldo - Страница 6

Thinking that his friends were close beside him, Harrie dropped into the boat arranged for their flight. At the same moment Francisco landed in the bow of the slight craft rocking at its moorings, while flashes of light and wild orders of men under the stress of great excitement came from the deck of the Libertador.

"Are you all here?" asked the young Venezuelan, while he looked hurriedly upward to the scene of excitement Over their heads, rather than about him.

"Jack and Ronie are not here!" replied Harrie. "Hark! That must be them engaged in a hand-to-hand fight."

"We must cut loose!" exclaimed Francisco, through his clinched teeth. "Some of them are coming over the rail!"

"Boat ahoy!" thundered a stentorian voice from the vessel.

Francisco was in the act of cutting the boat adrift at that moment, and before the sound of the speaker's voice had died away the fugitives were several yards astern.

"Ply the oars, for your life!" said Francisco. "Our lives depend on our work for the next few minutes."

Loath as he was to make this flight without his friends, it was really all that Harrie could do, and he lent his arm to that of his companion, and with each stroke of the oar they were taken farther and farther from the scene of wild commotion reigning upon the deck of the outlawed ship.

"They are laying to," panted Francisco. "They have sighted us, and boats will be lowered to give us pursuit. Ha! that shows they mean business."

A volley of firearms at that instant awoke the night scene, illuminating the sea for a considerable distance. But the shots flew wide of their mark, though the light from the guns had disclosed their position, so the following volley whistled uncomfortably near. A darkness deeper than ever succeeded the discharge of firearms, and under this cover the fugitives managed to get beyond range before the third volley could be sent after them.

Harrie had improved the passing gleams to look for Ronie and Jack, but he had failed to learn aught of their fates, and his heart was very heavy, as he concluded that he alone had been permitted to escape. Francisco was silently bending over his oar, sending the boat swiftly through the water into the unknown dangers that must lie in their pathway.

Meanwhile, how has it fared with Jack and Ronie, who found their escape cut off at the very moment they were about to follow their companions?

"By the horn of rock – Gibraltar, if you please!" gritted the first, seizing upon a stout lever that some one had dropped nearby, and which promised to be a formidable club when wielded by his nervous arms, "when ye keelhaul old Jack Greenland ye'll hear Gabriel's trumpet sounding not far away!"

Then, as the mob rushed forward, he sprang in front of Ronie, who had suddenly found himself flung back from the ship's rail, to be sent headlong to the deck, and swinging his primitive weapon over his head he mowed down a semi-circle of the seamen as if he was cutting a swath of grain. By that time Ronie, whose determined nature was aroused by this rough treatment, was upon his feet, holding in his right hand a serviceable small arm that he had been able to pick up.

Shots were fired upon them by the crew of the Libertador, but, fortunately, the assailants proved but poor marksmen. One burly ruffian attempting to fell Ronie, the latter pointed at his body and discharged his firearm. At least he cocked the weapon and pulled the trigger, but it failed to respond. Realizing that it was empty, he used it as a club, and a moment later had cleared his path of the big seaman. At that moment Jack cried out:

"Quick – into the sea!"

An instant later their forms disappeared over the rail, and they shot headforemost into the water. Almost simultaneously with their escape the deck where they had just stood swarmed with the armed rabble.

Ronie for a brief while lost consciousness, and then the voice of Jack came faintly to his ears:

"Where are you, lad?"

"Here, Jack."

"Good! I will be with you in a minute. Drop astern as fast as you can."

Ronie was a good swimmer, and as soon as he had recovered from the shock of his headlong leap from the vessel he gathered himself together, and when Jack came alongside he felt equal to the task which seemed to lie ahead.

"Are you hurt, my lad?" asked Jack.

"No, Jack."

"Then keep beside me, and mind that you do not waste any of your strength, for if we do not find Harrie and the boat it is likely to be a long swim."

"Where can he be? I believe they are lowering a boat from the ship."

"Let them lower away, lad. It'll be a long chase before they overhaul us. Let's keep a little more to the right, for the boat has in all probability gone that way, if they got away. I am not sure they did, but it looked like it."

Then, the cries of the excited officers and crew of the Libertador growing fainter, as they swam on and on, Ronie and Jack steadily forged ahead, peering with anxious gaze into the gloom about them for a sight of their friends.

At the end of an hour the dark hulk of the Libertador had faded from view, and no more did the shouts of the exasperated men on board reach their ears, while they, feeling the fearful strain upon them, moved slowly through the water, hope slowly dying out in their breasts.

"We shall not find them!" declared Ronie.

"We must!" said Jack. "Let's shout to them again, now, together:

"Boat a-h-o-y!"

As they had done a dozen times before without receiving any welcoming reply, they sent their united voices far out over the sea, shimmering now in the starlight. Still no response – no sound to break the dreadful silence of their watery surroundings.

"My old arms are not quite tired out yet, lad; hold upon me."

"No – no, Jack. I am young and strong. I can bear up a while longer. If I only knew Harrie had escaped I should feel better."

"We can only hope that they have, and fight for our lives a little longer."

Nothing more was said for some time, while they continued their battle with the sea, each stroke of the arm leaving them a little weaker, until it seemed to the castaways that they could not hold up much longer.

"The race is almost over, lad," said Jack, at last. "I feel worse for you than for myself. You have been a true boy. It does not matter so much with an old wornout veteran like me, but you are – "

"Look, Jack!" exclaimed Ronie, in the midst of his speech. "I believe that is the boat!"

His companion glanced in the direction pointed out by Ronie, and a glad cry escaped his lips.

"Boat, ahoy!" he cried. "Help! H-e-l-p!"

Then they listened for a reply, fearing lest the other should fail to catch their faint appeal, for both were so hoarse and exhausted that their united voices could not reach far.

"It is a sloop," declared Jack. "It is coming straight down upon us. They cannot miss us – ay, they are veering away! They have not heard us – they have not seen us – they are going to pass us. Once again, lad, shout for your life. It is our only hope."

Never did two poor mortals appeal with greater desperation for succor, and a moment later a low cry of rejoicing left their sea-wet lips as the reply rang over the water in a piercing tone:

"Ahoy – there! Where away?"

"Here – to your lee!" replied the castaways, and then, quite overcome, they suddenly lost consciousness.