Fitz the Filibuster Part 28

"Then they'll see us again at daylight."

"Think so? Why, we have got all the night before us, and the gunboat's captain isn't likely to follow in our wake."

"I suppose not. It would be a great chance if he did. How beautiful the water is to-night!"

"Yes! One had no chance to admire it before. 'Tis fine. Just as if two rockets were going off from our bows, so that we seem to be leaving a trail of sparks behind."

"Yes, where the water's disturbed," said Fitz. "It's just as if the sea was covered with golden oil ready to flash out into light as soon as it was touched."

"Why, you seem quite cheery," said Poole.

"Of course. Isn't it natural after such a narrow escape?"

"Yes, for me," replied Poole banteringly; "but I should have thought that you would have been in horribly low spirits because you were not captured and taken on board the gunboat."

"No, you wouldn't," said Fitz shortly. "I know better than that. I say, you will stop on deck all night, won't you?"

"Of course. Shan't you?"

"Oh yes. I couldn't go to sleep after this. Besides, who can tell what's to come?"

"To be sure," said Poole quietly. "Who can tell what's to come? In spite of what old Burgess says, the gunboat may have a consort, and perhaps we are running out of one danger straight into another."

Perhaps due to the reaction after the excitement, the lads ceased to chat together, and leaned over the bows, alternately watching the phosph.o.r.escent sea and the horizon above which the stars appeared dim and few.

Fitz looked more thoughtful as the time went on, his own words seeming to repeat themselves in the question--Who knows what might happen?

Once they turned aft, to look right astern at where they caught sight once or twice of the gunboat's light. Then it faded out and they went forward again, the schooner gliding swiftly on, till at last the mate's harsh, deep voice was heard giving his orders for an alteration of their course.

It was very dark inboard, and it was not until afterwards that the two lads knew exactly what had taken place. It was all in a moment, and how it happened even the sufferer hardly knew, but it was all due to a man having stepped in the darkness where he had no business to be; for just after the giving of the order, and while the spokes were swinging through the steersman's hands, one of the booms swung round, there was a dull thud, a half-uttered shout, and then a yell from one of the foremost men.

"Man overboard!" was roared, and as the skipper ran forward, after shouting to the steersman to throw the schooner up into the wind, another man answered his eager question with--

"It's Bob Jackson, sir. I saw him go."

The captain's excited voice rang out mingled with the shrill whistle of the boatswain's pipe, and then to be half-drowned by his hoa.r.s.e roar as the men's feet pattered over the deck, now rapidly growing level as the pressure was taken off the sails.

"Now then, half-a-dozen of you!" came hoa.r.s.ely. "Don't stand staring there! Are you going to be all night lowering down that boat? Sharp's the word! I am going to show you the way."

As he spoke, Fitz had a dim vision of the big bluff fellow's action, as, pulling out his knife, he opened it with his teeth.

"Sharks below there!" he roared. "'Ware my knife!" and running right astern he sprang on to the rail, looked round for a moment, fixed his eyes upon a luminous splash of light that had just taken Fitz's attention, and then sprang overboard into the black water, which splashed up like a fountain of fire, and the bluff sailor's figure, looking as if clad in garments of lambent gold, could be seen gliding diagonally down, forming a curve as it gradually rose to the surface, which began to emit little plashes of luminosity as the man commenced to swim.

"Well done! Bravo!" panted Fitz, and then he rushed to the spot where the men were lowering down, sprang on to the bulwark, caught at the falls, and slipped down into the boat just as it kissed the water.

"You here!" cried a familiar voice.

"Yes," panted Fitz, "and you too!"

"Why, of course! Pull away, my lads. I'll stand up and tell you which way to go."

The falls were already unhooked and the oars over the side, the men pulling with all their might in the direction where the regular splashes made by the motion of the boatswain's arm could be seen as he scooped away at the water with a powerful side stroke.

"Pull, lads--pull!" roared the skipper's son, while in his excitement Fitz scrambled over the oars to get right in the bows, where he strained his eyes to try and make out the man who had gone over first, and a terrible catching of the breath a.s.sailed him as he realised the distance he had been left behind by the swiftly-gliding schooner.

Even the boatswain was far away, swimming hard and giving out a heavy puff like some grampus just rising to breathe.

"This way, boys!" he shouted. "Come along! Cheer up, my hearty! I am coming fast."

He ceased speaking now, as the boat followed in his track, and Fitz as he knelt in the bows reached behind him to begin fumbling for the boat-hook, finding it and thrusting it out like a little bowsprit, ready to make a s.n.a.t.c.h when the time should come. But his effort seemed as if it would be vain, for after what seemed in the excitement to be a terribly long row, the boat was brought abreast of the swimming boatswain.

"Can't you see him, b.u.t.ters?" shouted Poole, who had now joined Fitz.

"No, my lad," came in a hoa.r.s.e gasping tone. "Can't you?"

"No. I saw the water splash not a minute ago. It was just beyond where you were swimming."

"No; more to the left," cried Fitz. "Ah, there! There! There!" and he pointed out in the direction he had described.

"Yes, that's it," roared the boatswain, who seemed suddenly to have recovered his breath, and throwing himself away from the boat, whose side he had grasped, he splashed through the water for a few yards towards where a ring of gold seemed to have been formed, and as the boat followed, and nearly touched his back, he seemed to be wallowing in an agitated pool of pale greenish fire, which went down and down for quite a couple of fathoms, the boat pa.s.sing right above it with the men backing water at a shout from Poole, so that they pa.s.sed the disappearing swimmer again.

"Now," shouted Fitz, as the golden light began to rise, and thrusting down the boat-hook he felt it catch against the swimmer's side.

The next moment the boatswain was up with a rush, to throw one arm over the bows.

"Got him!" he gasped.

There was a quick scramble, the water almost lapped over the side as the starboard-bow went down, and then, partly with the hauling of the boys, partly by the big st.u.r.dy boatswain's own efforts, the unfortunate Bob Jackson was dragged aboard, the boatswain rolling in after him with his messmates' help, and subsiding between two of the thwarts with a hoa.r.s.e, half-strangled groan.

"Hooroar!" came from the men, the boys' voices dominating the shout with a better p.r.o.nunciation of the word.

"Hooroar it is!" gasped the boatswain. "Bravo, b.u.t.ters! Well done!

Well done!" cried Poole.

"Well done? I am done, you mean. I thought I'd let him go. Keep back, some on you--give a fellow room to breathe. That's better," came with more freedom. "Now then, give your orders, Mr Poole," panted the man; "I've lost my wind. Get him on his back and pump his into him. That's your sort!" he continued, as in obedience to the young skipper's commands two men began to row while the others set to work upon the first aid necessary in the case of a half-drowned man.

"Ah!" sighed the boatswain, now sitting up in the bottom of the boat and shuffling himself aft a little so as to give more room. "I am as weak as a babby. Well done! Pump away, my lads. That's your sort! Pore chap, he's all water and no wind now! I dunno what he'd been about.

Had he been soaping his feet?--Think he's coming round, Mr Poole?"

"I hope so," was the reply. "I am afraid, poor fellow, he must have been half-stunned. Come and look, b.u.t.ters; I want you to feel his chest." The boatswain came and leaned over. "Keep it up, my lads. It will be all right soon. Oh yes, his own pump's going on inside. His kit won't be for sale. But I don't believe he'd have taken his trick at the wheel again if I hadn't gone down and fetched him up."

"No; you saved his life, Mr b.u.t.ters," cried Fitz excitedly. "I never saw anything so brave before. Would you mind--"

"Eh!--What, sir?--Shake hands?--Certainly, sir, hearty, and same to you!"

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fitz involuntarily. "I am very sorry, sir. Did I squeege too hard?"

"Why, it was a scrunch," said the boy petulantly. "But it's all right now. Your fingers, though, are as hard as wood."