A week later the Tartar proceeded to the Mediterranean. One morning after cruising there for some weeks, when the light mist lifted, a vessel was seen some three miles away. The captain looked at her through his telescope.
“That is a suspicious-looking craft,” he said to the first lieutenant, Mr. Roberts. “We will lower a cutter and overhaul her.”
The cutter’s crew were at once mustered. Will was the midshipman in charge of her, and took his place by the side of the third lieutenant, Mr. Saxton. The lieutenant ordered the men to take their muskets with them.
“May I take Dimchurch and Stevens?” Will asked.
“Yes, if you like. There is room for them in the bow, and two extra muskets may be useful.”
The two men, who were standing close by, took their places when they heard the permission given.
“I certainly don’t like her appearance, Gilmore,” the lieutenant said. “I cannot help thinking that she is an Algerine by her rig; and though every Algerine is not necessarily a pirate, a very large number of them are. I fancy a breeze will spring up soon, and in that case we may have a long row before we overtake her.”
The breeze came presently, and the Algerine began to slip away. It was, however, but a puff, and the boat again began to gain on her. When they were five miles from the ship they were within a quarter of a mile from the chase.
“Confound the fellow!” the lieutenant muttered; “but I think I was mistaken, for there are not more than half a dozen men on her deck.”
At length the boat swept up to the side of the craft. As the men leapt to their feet a couple of round shot were thrown into the boat, one of them going through the bottom. The cutter immediately began to fill, and the men as they climbed up were confronted by fully a hundred armed Moors. Lieutenant Saxton was at once cut down, and most of the sailors suffered the same fate. As usual, Will, Dimchurch, and Stevens held together and fought back to back. The contest, however, was too uneven to last, and the Moorish captain came up to them and signed to them that they must lay down their arms.
“Do it at once,” Will said. “They evidently prefer to take us prisoners to killing us, which they could do without difficulty. We have been caught in a regular trap, and must make the best of it.”
So saying he threw down his cutlass, and the others followed his example.
They were taken down below with three other unwounded sailors, and the wounded and dead were at once thrown overboard.
“This is the worst affair we have been in together,” said Dimchurch, “since we fell into the hands of those negroes. Unless the Tartar overtakes us I am afraid we are in for a bad time.”
“I am afraid so, Dimchurch, and I fear that there is little chance indeed of the frigate overtaking us. In such a light wind this craft would run away from her, and with fully five miles start it would be useless for the boats to try to overtake her.”
“What are they going to do with us?”
“There is very little doubt about that. They will make slaves of us, and either set us to work on the fortifications or sell us to be taken up-country.”
“I don’t expect they will keep us long,” Dimchurch said grimly.
“I don’t know; they have great numbers of Christians whom they hold captive, and it is rare indeed that one of them escapes. I suppose some day or other we’ll send a fleet to root them out, but our hands are far too full for anything of that sort at present. If we have a chance of escape you may be sure that we’ll take it, but we had better make up our minds at once to make the best of things until opportunity offers.”
“I only hope we’ll be kept together, sir. I could put up with it if that were so, but it would be awful if we were separated; for even if one saw a chance for escape he could not let the others know.”
“You may be sure, Dimchurch, that whatever opportunity I might see I would not avail myself of it unless I could take you both off with me.”
“The same here, sir,” Dimchurch said; and the words were echoed by Tom.
Six days later they heard the anchor run down, and presently the hatchway was lifted and they were told to come on deck. They found, as they had expected, that the craft was lying in the harbour of Algiers. At any other time they might have admired the city, with its mosques and minarets, its massive fortifications, and the shipping in the port, but they were in no humour to do so now. They regarded it as their jail. They and the three sailors were put into a boat and rowed ashore, the captain of the craft going with them. They were met at the wharf by a Moor, who was evidently an official of rank. He and the captain held an animated conversation, and by their laughter Will had no doubt whatever that the captain was telling the clever manner in which he had effected their capture. Then the official said something which was not altogether pleasing to the captain, who, however, crossed his hands on his breast and bowed submissively. The official then handed the six prisoners over to some men who had accompanied him, and they were immediately marched across to a large barrack-like building, which was evidently a prison. Two hours afterwards a great troop of captives came in. These were so worn and wearied that they asked but few questions of the new-comers.
“Don’t talk about it,” one said in answer to a question from Will. “There is not one of us who would not kill himself if he got the chance. It is work, work, work from daybreak till sunset. We have enough to eat to keep us alive; we are too valuable to be allowed to die. We get food before we start in the morning, again at mid-day, and again when we get back here. Oh, they are very careful of us, but they don’t mind how we suffer! The sun blazes down all day, and not a drop of drink do we get except at meals. In spite of their care we slip through their hands. Sunstroke and fever are always thinning our ranks. That is the history of it, mate, and if I were to talk till morning I could not tell you more. I suppose by your cut that you are a man-of-war’s-man?”
“You’re right,” Dimchurch said. “We got caught in a trap, and our nine mates were killed without having a chance to fire a shot.”
“Ah!” the man said with a sigh, “I wish I had had their luck, and you will wish so too before you have been here long.”
Rough food was served out, and then the slaves, after eating, lay down without exchanging a word, anxious only to sleep away the thought of their misery. The three friends lay down together. To each prisoner a small rug had been served out, and this was their only bedding.
“We are certainly in a bad corner,” Dimchurch said, “but the great point will be to keep up our spirits and make the best of it.”
“That is so,” Will agreed. “I am convinced that, however sharp a watch they may keep, three resolute men will find some way of escape. We’ll know a little more about it to-morrow. If there are windows to this building we ought to be able to get out of them, and if it is surrounded by walls we ought to be able to scale them. Besides, if we are set to work in the city we might find an opportunity of evading the diligence of our guards. For one thing, we must assume an air of cheerfulness while we work. In time, when they see that we do our work well and are contented and obedient, their watch will relax. Above all, we must not, like these poor fellows, make up our minds that our lot is hopeless. If we once lose hope we shall lose everything. At any rate, for the present we must wait patiently. We have still got to find out everything; all we know is that we are confined in a prison, and that we shall have to do some work or other during the day.
“We have got to find out the plan of the city and its general bearings, to learn something, if we can, of the surrounding country, and to see how we should manage to subsist if we got away. Of course the natural idea would be to make for the sea and steal a boat. But we came up from the shore through an archway in the wall; it was strongly guarded, and I fear it would be next to impossible to get down to the port. Our best plan, I think, would be to take to the country if we can, and go down to the shore some distance from the city. We might then light upon a boat belonging to some fisherman. Of course all this is pure conjecture, and all we can arrange is that we shall keep our eyes about us, and look for an empty house in which we might hide and discover how we might leave the town on the land side, where it is not likely the fortifications will be nearly so strong as on the sea-face.”
The next morning the captives were deprived of their clothes, and in their place were given dirty linen jackets and loose trousers. Their shoes were also taken away. They then fell in with the rest of the captives. On leaving the prison they were formed into companies, each of which, under a strong guard, marched off in different directions. The three friends kept close together, and were assigned to a company which was told off to clean the streets of a certain quarter of the town. They were furnished with brooms and brushes, and were soon hard at work. As the morning went on, the heat became tremendous. Several men fell, but the overseers lashed them until they got upon their feet again.
“My eye! this is like working in an oven,” Dimchurch muttered; “the dust is choking me. We must certainly get out of this as soon as we can, sir.”
“I agree with you, Dimchurch. I feel as if I were melting away. If I were to put a bit of food in my mouth I believe the heat would bake it in no time.”
“I couldn’t swallow anything,” Tom said, “not even a mackerel fresh out of the sea.”
“You know we agreed that we must make the best of everything,” Will said. “If we work as we are doing we can’t but please our overseers, and shall save ourselves from blows.”
“They had better not strike me,” Dimchurch said; “the man that did it would never live to strike another.”
“That might be,” Will said, “but it would be a small satisfaction to you if you were to be flogged to death afterwards.”
“No, I suppose not, sir; but flesh and blood can’t stand such a thing as being struck by one of these yellow hounds.”
At twelve o’clock the gang returned, and the men drank eagerly from a fountain in the courtyard of the prison.
“Take as little as you can,” Will said; “if you drink much it will do you harm. You can drink often if you like, provided that you only take a sip at a time.”
“It is easy to say, Mr. Gilmore, but it is not so easy to do. I feel as if I could drink till I burst.”
“I dare say you do; I feel the same myself; but I am sure that to take a lot of water just now would do us harm instead of good.”
Their abstinence so far benefited them that they felt their work in the afternoon less than they had done in the morning, though the heat was, if anything, greater.
That evening they examined their prison. It consisted of one great hall supported by rows of pillars. Here the whole of the prisoners were confined. It was lighted by windows five-and-twenty feet from the ground. There was no guard inside, but fifty men, some of whom were always on sentry, slept outside the hall. It was clear to them, therefore, that no escape could be made after they were once locked up, and that if they were to get away at all they must make the attempt when they were employed outside.
On the third day one of the sailors from the Tartar, who had disregarded Will’s advice to drink sparingly, fell down dead after drinking till he could drink no more. Scarcely a day passed without one or more of the captives succumbing; some of them went mad and were at once despatched by their guards.
After working for a fortnight in the streets the gang were marched in another direction, and were put to labour on the fortifications. This was a great relief. They were now free from the choking dust of the streets, and obtained a view of the surrounding country. The three, as usual, laboured together, and showed so much zeal and activity that they pleased the head of their guard. They had the great advantage that they were accustomed to work together, while the majority of the gang had no such experience. There were men of all nationalities—French, Spanish, Italians, Maltese, and Greeks, and though most of them were accustomed to a warm climate, they had nothing like the strength of the three Englishmen. In moving heavy stones, therefore, the three friends were able to perform as much work as any dozen other prisoners. They were the only Englishmen in the gang, for the other two sailors had been from the first placed with another party.
On the march to their work they passed by a palace of considerable extent, surrounded by grounds which were entered on that side by a small postern gate. “I would give a good deal to know if that gate is locked,” Will said.
“What good would that do, sir?”
“Well, if we could get in there we might hide in the shrubbery, and stop there till the first pursuit was over. No one would think of searching there. I should say we might, if we had luck, seize and bind three of the gardeners or attendants, and so issue from one of the gates dressed in their clothes without exciting suspicion.”
“What should we do for grub, sir?”
“Well, for that we must trust to chance. There are houses that might be robbed, and travellers who might be lightened of their belongings. I can’t think that three active men, though they might be unarmed, would allow themselves to starve. Of course we should want to get rid of these clothes, and find some weapons; but the great point of all is to discover whether that door is locked.”
“All right, sir! I am ready to try anything you may suggest, for I am sick to death of this work, and the heat, and the food, and the guard, and everything connected with it.”
They looked at the door with longing eyes each time they passed it. At last one day a man came out of the gateway just as they were passing, and, pulling the gate to behind him, walked away without apparently thinking of locking it.
“That settles that point,” Will said. “The next most important question is, Are there people moving about inside? Then how are we to slip away unseen? To begin with, we will manage always to walk in the rear of the gang. There are often rows; if some poor wretch goes mad and attacks the guard there is generally a rush of the others to his assistance. If such a thing were to happen near this gate we might manage to slip in unnoticed. Still, I admit the chances are against anything of the sort taking place just at that point, and I expect we must try and think of something better.”
A fortnight later, just as they were passing the door, a small party of cavalry, evidently the escort to some great chief, came dashing along at full speed. The road being somewhat narrow the slaves and guards scattered in all directions, several of them being knocked down.
“Now is our chance!” Will exclaimed; and the three ran to the gate and entered the garden. There was no one in sight; evening was coming on, and any men who might have been working in the garden had left. They closed the gate behind them and turned the key in the lock, then ran into a shrubbery and threw themselves down. They trusted that in the confusion their absence would not be noticed, and this seemed to be the case, for they heard loud orders given and then all was quiet.
“So far so good,” Will said. “The first step is taken, and the most difficult one. To-morrow, when the gardeners come, we will spring upon three of them and bind them. I should not think that there will be more than that.”
Fortune favoured them, however, for an hour later three servants came along, laughing and talking together. The sailors prepared to act, and as the men passed their hiding-place Will gave the word, and, leaping out upon them, they hurled them to the ground. Tom and Dimchurch both stunned their men, and then aided Will to secure the one he had knocked down. Without ceremony they stripped off the clothes of the fallen men, tore up their own rags, and bound the captives securely, shoving a ball of the material between the teeth of each, and then secured them to three trees a short distance apart.
“That is good,” said Will, as they put on the servants’ clothes; “they are safe till they are found in the morning. In these clothes we can boldly venture out from the town gate as soon as it is opened. There is always the risk that our colour may betray us, but we are all burnt nearly as dark as mahogany and may very well pass.”
“Shall we start now, sir?”
“No, they will find out when they get to the prison that we are missing, and there will be a keen hunt for us. And now I come to think of it, the guards at the gate will be warned of our escape, and will probably question us, particularly as these bright-coloured garments would attract their attention. I really think our best plan would be to go out into the town at once and try to get hold of other disguises.”
“It would be a good thing if we could do so, sir.”
“Dear me, how stupid I am!” exclaimed Will after a pause. “You know that wall we were repairing to-day? It was only about fourteen feet above the ground outside, so we should have no difficulty in dropping down.”
“That is so, sir. It is an easy drop, and by leaving in that way we’ll avoid being questioned, and get well away before the alarm is given.”
“Then we will lose no time,” said Will. “We have to pass through a busy quarter, but if we go separately we shall attract no notice, though no doubt by this time the search will have begun. They will be looking, however, for three men together. Of course they will not so much as cast an eye upon the servants of this palace, for they will know nothing of our doings here till to-morrow morning. I will go first when we get into the street. You, Dimchurch, follow me forty or fifty yards behind, and Tom the same distance behind you.”
“I hardly think they will be in search of us yet,” Dimchurch said. “It is little more than an hour since we escaped, and they won’t find out till they get to the prison and count the gang. When they have done that they would have to see who it was that was missing, and then they would take some time to organize the search.”
“That is so, Dimchurch; still, we will take every precaution.”
So saying they started. When they were half-way to the wall they saw a number of soldiers and convict guards come running along, questioning many people as they passed. They trembled lest they should be discovered, but fortunately no question was put to any of them, and they kept on their way. Presently Will emerged upon the open space of ground between the wall and the houses, and when Dimchurch and Tom had come up they went together along the foot of the wall until they came to the place where they had been working.
“Keep your eyes open,” Will said as they climbed up, “there are crowbars and hammers lying about, and, where the stone-cutters were working, chisels. A crowbar or a heavy hammer is a weapon not to be despised.”
In a few minutes each was armed with a chisel and a light crowbar. They then went to the edge of the wall, and, throwing these weapons down, lowered themselves as far as they could reach and dropped to the ground.
“Thank God we are out of that place!” Will said fervently; “we won’t enter it again alive. Now, the first thing is to get as far away as possible, keeping as nearly parallel to the line of the coast as we can, but four or five miles back, for we may be sure that when they cannot find us in the town they will suspect that we have made for the coast, and a dozen horsemen will be sent out to look for us along the shore. It is no use our thinking of trying to get to sea until the search has been given up. Our principal difficulty will be to live. From the walls the country looked well cultivated in parts, and even if we have to exist on raw grain we shall not be much worse off than when we were in prison.”
“I don’t care what it is,” Tom said, “so long as there is enough of it to keep us alive; but we must have water.”
“I don’t think there will be much difficulty about that, Tom, as every one of the houses scattered over the plain will have wells and fountains in their gardens. Thank goodness, they won’t miss any we take, and we could go every night and fetch water without exciting any suspicion that we had been there!”
“One of the first things we must do,” said Will, “is to dirty these white jackets and trousers so that we may look like field labourers, for then if anyone should catch sight of us in the distance we should attract no attention.”
They walked all night, and just as morning was breaking they saw a large country house with the usual garden. They climbed over the wall, which was not high, and drew some water in a bucket which they found standing at the mouth of the well.
“This bucket we will confiscate,” Will said; “we can hardly lie hidden all day without having a drink. Of course they will miss it; but when they cannot find it they will suppose that it has been mislaid or stolen. One of the gardeners will probably get the blame, but we can’t help that. Now we will go another mile and then look for a hiding-place. There are a lot of sand-hills scattered about, and if we can’t find a hole that will suit us we must scoop one out. I believe they are pretty hard inside, but our crowbars will soon make a place large enough.”
After an hour’s walk they fixed upon a spot on the shady side of a hill and began to make a cave that would allow the three to lie side by side. The work was completed in less than an hour, and they crawled in and scraped up some of the fallen sand so as partially to close the mouth behind them.
“Thank goodness, we have got shelter and water!” Will said. “As for food, we must forage for it to-night.”
“I am quite content to go without it for to-day,” Dimchurch said, “and to lie here and sleep and do nothing. I don’t think anything would tempt me to get up and walk a mile farther, not even the prospects of a good dinner.”
“Well, as we are all so tired we shall probably sleep till evening.”
In a few minutes all were asleep. Once or twice in the course of the day they woke up and took a drink from the bucket and then fell off again. At sunset all sat up quite refreshed.
“I begin to feel that I have an appetite,” Will said; “now I think, for to-night, we will content ourselves with going into one of the fields and plucking a lot of the ears of maize. Messages may have been sent out all over the country, and the people may be watchful. It will be wise to avoid all risk of discovery. We can gather a few sticks and make a fire in there to roast the maize; there are sand-hills all round, so what little flame we make would not be noticed.”
“But how about a light?” Dimchurch asked.
“I picked up a piece of flint as we came along this morning,” Will said, “and by means of one of these chisels we ought to be able to strike a light; a few dead leaves, finely crumbled up, should do instead of tinder.”
“It is a good thing to keep one’s eyes open,” Dimchurch remarked. “Now if I had seen that piece of stone I should not have given it a thought, and here it is going to give us a hot dinner!”
As there were numbers of fields in the neighbourhood they soon returned with an armful of maize each. Dried weeds and sticks were then collected, and after repeated failures a light was at last obtained, and soon the grain was roasted. A jacket was stretched across the entrance of their den so that, should anyone be passing near, they would not observe the light.
“Now,” Will said as they munched some maize the next evening, “we must start foraging. We will go in opposite directions, and each must take his bearing accurately or we’ll never come together again.”
They were out for some hours, and when they returned it was found that Will had come across four fowls, Tom had gathered a variety of fruit, consisting chiefly of melons and peaches, while Dimchurch, who was the last to come in, brought a small sheep.
“We only want one thing to make us perfect,” Will said, “and that is a pipe of ’bacca.”
“Well, that would be a welcome addition,” Tom admitted, “but it does not do to expect too much. I should not be at all surprised if we were to light upon some tobacco plants in one of the gardens, but of course it could hardly be like a properly dried leaf. I dare say, though, we could make something of it.”
So they lived for a month, sometimes better, sometimes worse, but with sufficient food of one sort or another. So far as they knew no suspicion of their presence had been excited, though their petty robberies must have been noticed. One evening, however, Will, on going to the top of the sand-hill, as he generally did, saw a large detachment of soldiers coming along, searching the ground carefully. He ran down at once to his companions.
“Take your weapons, lads,” he said, “and make off; a strong party of soldiers are searching the country, and they are coming this way. No doubt they are looking for us.”
They had run but a few hundred yards when they heard shouts, and, looking round, they saw a Moorish officer waving his hands and gesticulating. This was alarming, but they reckoned that they had fully five hundred yards start.
“Keep up a steady pace,” Will said; “I don’t expect the beggars can run faster than we can. It will be pitch dark in half an hour, and as, fortunately, there is no moon, I expect we’ll be able to give them the slip.”
As they advanced they found that the vegetation became scarcer and scarcer.
“I am afraid we are on the edge of a desert,” Will said, “which means that there are no more fowls and fruit for us. I see, Dimchurch, that you have been the most thoughtful this time. That half sheep and those cakes will be very valuable to us.”
“I wasn’t going to leave them for the soldiers if I knew it, sir; they wouldn’t have gone far among them, while they will last us some time with care.”
They changed their course several times as soon as it became quite dark, and presently had the satisfaction of hearing the shouts of their pursuers fade away behind them.
“Now we can take it quietly, lads. We can guide ourselves towards the sea by means of the stars. I fancy it must be fully twenty miles away. We must hold on till we get to it, and then gradually work our way along among the sand-hills or clumps of bush bordering it till we come to a village. Then we must contrive to get a good supply of food and water, steal a boat, and make off. If galleys were sent out to search for us they must have given it up long ago. As for other craft, we’ll have to take our chance with them.”
They kept steadily north and at last came down to the coast. As it was still dark they lay down till morning. When the sun rose they thought they could make out a village some eight miles away.
“Now it will be quite safe to cook our breakfast,” Dimchurch said.
“Yes, I think so,” Will answered, “but we must be sparing with the mutton; that is our only food at present, and it may be some little time before we get hold of anything else.”
After breakfast they lay down among the bushes and slept till evening. Then they started along the shore towards the village. When they got within half a mile of it they halted. They could see some boats on the shore, so they felt that the only difficulty in their way was the question of provisions. When it was quite dark they went into the village and started to forage, but on meeting again they had very little to show. Between them they had managed to take five fowls; but the village was evidently a poor place, for with the exception of a few melons there was no fruit.
“The beggars must have grain somewhere,” said Will. “They can’t live on fowls and melons.”
“I expect, sir, they live very largely on fish.”
“That is likely enough,” Will agreed. “Let us put down these fowls and melons under this bush, and have a nap for a couple of hours, till we are sure that everyone is asleep. We can then go down and have a look at the boats. Those of them that come in late may probably leave some of their catch on board.”
When they went down to the boats they found that three of them contained a fair quantity of fish. They helped themselves to some of these, and then retreated some distance from the village, picking up the other provisions on the way, and then, going into a clump of bushes, cooked a portion of the fish.
“That pretty well settles the question of provisions,” Will said. “We must choose a night when there is a good wind blowing offshore, so that we may run a good many miles before morning. Then we must trust to falling in with one of our cruisers.”
“Fish won’t keep long in this climate,” suggested Tom.
“No,” said Will, “but we can dry some of them in the sun and they will then keep good for some time. Then we might clean half a dozen fowls and cook them before we start.”
“The great difficulty will be water.”
“Yes, but we can get over that by stripping the gardens clean of their melons. They weigh four or five pounds apiece and would supply us with fluid for a week easily.”
The next evening they went down and made a more careful examination of the boats. One in particular attracted their attention. She was nearly new, and looked likely to be faster than the rest. She was anchored some fifty yards from the shore. Three more evenings were spent in prowling about the village collecting food. It was evident that the villagers were alarmed at their depredations, for on the third evening they were fired at by several men. In consequence of this they moved a mile farther away, in case a search should be made, and the next night carried the provisions down to the shore. As they were all expert swimmers they were soon alongside the chosen craft. They pushed the provisions before them on a small raft, and when they had put them on board they made a trip to one or two of the other boats and brought away some twenty pounds of fish. Then they cut the hawser and hoisted sail. As they did so they heard a great tumult on shore, and the villagers ran down to the water’s edge and opened fire upon them. The shooting, however, was wild, and they were very soon out of range. Several boats put off in pursuit. This caused them some uneasiness, and they watched them somewhat anxiously, for the wind, though favourable, was light, and they felt by no means certain that they would be able to keep ahead of the rowers. The stolen craft, however, proved unexpectedly fast, and the boats, after following fifteen miles without sensibly gaining, at last gave up the chase. About this time, too, the wind, to their great relief, became stronger, and the little vessel flew more and more rapidly over the sea.
“She is a fine craft,” Dimchurch said; “these Moors certainly know how to build boats. It would require a smart cutter to hold her own with us.”
Dimchurch kept at the helm and the other two investigated their capture. She was three parts decked. In the cabin they came upon a lantern and flint and steel, and soon had light, which helped them greatly in their work. In the bow ropes were stored away, while in a locker they found some bread, which, although stale, was very acceptable. They also unearthed two or three suits of rough sea clothes with which they were glad to replace the light clothes they had carried away with them from the palace grounds, for though the weather on shore was warm the sea-breeze was chilly. Among other useful things they also discovered several long knives, and axes, and a flat stone for cooking upon.
“Now it is all a question of luck,” Will said; “the danger will be greater when we get a bit farther out. All vessels going up and down the Mediterranean give the Barbary coast a wide berth. Of course those pirate fellows are most numerous along the line of traffic, but they are to be found right up to the Spanish, French, and Italian coasts, though of late, I fancy, they have not been so active. There are too many of our cruisers about for their taste, and the Spaniards, when they get a chance, show the scoundrels no mercy.”
When morning broke not a sail was visible.
“I think, sir,” Dimchurch said, “that there is going to be a change of weather, and that we are in for a gale.”
“It does not matter much. I fancy this boat would go through it however severe it might be.”
“Yes, sir, but it would check our progress, and we want to run north as fast as we can. I see, by the line you are making, that you are aiming at Toulon, and at our present pace it would take us something like four days to get there. If we are caught in a gale we may take two days longer.”
“That is so,” Will agreed; “but on the other hand, if the wind becomes much stronger we’ll have to take in sail, and in that case we should have more chance of escaping notice if we come near any of those Moorish craft. Besides, if the sea were really rough it would be difficult for them to board us even if they did come up with us.”
“You are right, sir; still, for myself, I should prefer a strong southerly wind and a clear sky.”
“Well, I am afraid you will not get your wish, for the clouds certainly seem to be banking up from the north, and we’ll get a change of wind ere long.”
By night the wind was blowing fiercely and the sea rapidly rising. The sails were closely reefed, and even then they felt with pleasure that the little craft was making good way. The wind increased during the night, and was blowing a gale by morning. Just at twelve o’clock a craft was seen approaching which all were convinced was an Algerine. She changed her course at once and bore down upon them, firing a gun as a signal for them to stop.
“She is rather faster than we are,” Dimchurch said, “but we’ll lead her a good dance before she gets hold of us. She could not work her guns in this sea, and if she is the faster, at least we are the handier.”
For three hours the chase continued. Again and again the Algerine came up on them, but each time the little boat, turning almost on her heel, so cleverly was she handled, glided away from underneath the enemy’s bows. Each time, when they saw the chase slipping away from them, the angry Moors sent a volley of musketry after her, but the fugitives took refuge in the cabin, or lay down on the deck close under the bulwarks, and so escaped.
Soon the Moors were so intent on the chase that they began to take great risks with their own vessel. In fact, they became positively reckless. For this they paid very heavily. After many disappointments they felt that the fugitives were at last in their clutches, and were preparing to board her when suddenly Dimchurch put down his helm sharply. He nearly capsized the little craft, and indeed they would rather have gone down with her than fall into the hands of the Moors again, but she righted immediately, and once more skimmed away from her pursuers. In the excitement of the moment the Moorish steersman attempted the same manœuvre. If he had succeeded he would probably have run down the cockle-shell that had baffled him so long. But at that moment a violent squall struck his ship with its full force, and her mainmast snapped a few feet above the deck. The three fugitives jumped to their feet and cheered, and then calmly proceeded on their way.
