Roughriders of the Pampas: A Tale of Ranch Life in South America

by F. S. Brereton

"That is soon answered," spoke out Harold boldly. "We have hit three. Six are left. Just two to one. Why not change our places, sir? If we crept forward as they came alongside, they would find the stern vacated when they climbed aboard."

"But they would find us in the end," interrupted Dudley. "Why not try another trick? We can creep forward, as Harold suggests, and then get aboard their boat as they board us. A cut with a knife then would alter matters. We should be able to sail away, and——"

"A pretty plan, and one which we will carry out if we have the chance," cried Mr. Blunt. "It is quite certain that if we stay here they will prove too strong for us. We must make the utmost use of the darkness, and it is agreed therefore that we go forward, conceal ourselves under the rail, and as soon as they are on board clamber across to their deck and cut the ropes, for they are sure to lash the two craft together. I will make my way forward, while you will take the rope aft, Dudley. That is agreed. Then I think we will take up our places at once. They are already very near, and I reckon that within a minute they will be alongside. Slip off one by one. Joyce, lead the way please, and remember, there must be silence. We slip aboard, cut the lashings, and make off. I will take the tiller."

It was high time indeed that they should make some arrangement, for, as Mr. Blunt had said, the enemy were even then within striking distance. The ruffianly sailor who controlled the vessel on which the gang were pursuing was a man who knew his business and had steered a course on many an occasion. More than that, the fellow had the eyes of a cat, for he seemed to be able to make out the outline of the boat ahead in spite of the darkness, and indeed, by sitting on the deck, and getting his head as low as possible, had for some while been able to discern the mast of the fugitive boat against the stars above. He knew now that his bow was in a line with the stern of the other vessel, and with the knowledge that he was overhauling her very rapidly he moved his tiller just a little and sent his own craft swirling closer, so that her rail would touch that of the one in front.

"In a minute, comrades!" he sang out in execrable Portuguese. "I am running alongside. One of you take a rope forward and lash the rails as soon as they meet. I will see to the job being done aft here."

A call told him that his comrades understood, and once more the ruffian put his helm over. The ships touched a moment or two later, and by then the bow of the pursuer was half-way along the side of the boat on which Dudley and his friends crouched. A minute later the boats were sailing on a dead level, and the time had come to lash them together. The sailor promptly left his tiller, and, snatching a length of rope which he had placed at his feet, sprang at the rail, while those who were forward carried out their part of the task as rapidly as possible. A shout told that they were ready, and within an instant the sailor had left the stern and had run forward to meet them.

"We have them at last, the dogs," he shouted. "They were in the stern. Follow! Cut the lubbers to pieces."

He led the way on to the deck of the other vessel, and close behind him came his comrades, all revolver in hand, eager to be the first to shoot down the three who had stood in the stern, and who had shot their leader and two others of their number. They went rushing along the deck, the sailor emptying his weapon as he ran, for he took the gaunt outline of the mast for one of the men he sought.

"Our time to move," whispered Mr. Blunt. "Remember, I go forward, while Dudley takes the rope aft. I'll be with you in a moment."

As silent as ghosts, and as active as cats, the three slipped over the rails on to the other vessel, where Mr. Blunt went on hands and knees and with wonderful agility slid and scrambled along the deck. As for Dudley, he ran aft, keeping his hand all the while on the rail, and did not stop till it had struck upon the rope which the sailor had placed in position. With a slash he severed it, and then went to the tiller, there to wait for his leader. As for Harold Joyce, he stood on the deck opposite the point where he had clambered aboard, and, crouching under the shelter of the rail, waited, prepared to protect Mr. Blunt with his revolver.