"Lad," said Ben to Ralph as the two slid down the ratlines when their
task aloft was done, "I almost wish we were back among those bloody
niggers ashore. 'Twould be better than standin' trial for bein' caught
on a blackguard of a slaver--bad luck to her."
"We must make the best of it," began Ralph, when Gary's voice
interrupted him.
"Hoist away there, men!" cried the captain, brandishing his arms
furiously. "Up with that fo's'l! Up with it, I say! Ease away on
those tops'ls. Lively now! Haul away on that jib. Flatten 'em, boys!"
The men worked like demons, for on the instant they apprehended the
daring nature of Gary's maneuver. Rucker, seizing the trumpet, echoed
the captain's orders in stentorian tones.
It was not until the schooner fell off broadside that these actions
were noticeable to those on the warship. But she could not now fire
without endangering her own boat, which was scarcely fifty yards from
the slaver.
So nicely had Gary calculated, that the breeze bearing the fog struck
the Wanderer's sails just as she was trimmed to fall off. The cruiser,
stricken by the brief calm which had previously palsied the schooner's
movements, lay helpless in a double sense, being unable to either move
or fire.
"Make ready to go about," said the captain to the first mate, who
bellowed the order through his trumpet.
They were nearly abreast of the cruiser's boat, which, seeing at once
what was up, fired an ineffectual volley of small arms as the Wanderer
gracefully swept by, hardly a pistol shot off.
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