He let his glance rest for a few seconds on the figures of the policemen huddled in the cab of the launch beside the Major. He even caught the reflection of the moonlight in Sam's big rolling eyes. Then he turned his glance to either side, watching the widespreading bow wave as it swept out over the lagoon. He followed the ripples, and, turning, gazed astern. It came as a shock to him almost to discover two figures there crouching on the little deck aft of the engine well. One was huge and massive, and bore aloft a long, straight pole, while the second sat crouched on his haunches, as motionless as a statue. It was Ching. The Chinaman sat playing with the end of his pigtail, and giggled as Jim looked into his eyes.
"Velly fine! Dis allee lightee, sah; you catch him plenty quick," he gurgled.
"Den hang um," simpered Tom, his eyes rolling. "Dem scum not stand de chance of a dog, I tell yo. Massa Jim, yo make um buzz right along like dis; and den, by lummy, yo see what we do to um. Nobble dem rascals precious quick. Kill um; wring de neck of de villains."
Jim scowled at the negro, for such threats vexed him. Then, seeing the broad smile on Tom's face, he laughed outright.
"Jest like you, Tom, always threatening. I don't believe you'd actually hurt a fly unless you were forced to. But have a care, my lad; this boat's over-loaded, and if I hear too much from you I'll give Ching orders to send you overboard. Get lower, man; your big body meets the wind and keeps us from moving forward."
The mere suggestion that he might be tossed overboard caused the simple-minded Tom to open his big eyes wide in consternation. His huge jaw drooped; then, hearing his young master's merry laugh, the thick lips split asunder, and a loud guffaw came from the negro.
"Wat dat?" he demanded. "Yo ask dis man here to throw Tom overboard? By de poker, but if dis Chinaboy breathe one little word, me smash um. Tom nasty fellow to deal with when him angry."
But Jim had other matters to attend to rather than to listen to the negro's sayings. Indeed he had already turned his back upon the two men crouching astern, and was bending over the engine. Fumbling at the lock of a cupboard, he pulled the door open and extracted a heavy object from within. His finger pressed a button, and instantly a flood of light came from the electric torch he had secured. For five minutes he busied himself with the motor. Carefully adjusting the drips from the lubricator, he set them to give a more liberal supply than was usual. Then he lifted the board which covered the tail shaft bearing, and squeezed down the grease cup secured there. A finger laid on the top of the bearing assured him that it was running cool, while the same precaution in regard to the cylinders disclosed the fact that the water pump was working as it should do. In fact, in spite of the tremendous pace at which the motor was revolving, there was as yet no sign of failure, nothing to point to an immediate breakdown, nothing, in fact, to lead him to suppose that the chase would have to be abandoned.
"Then I can begin to take a little interest in those rascals," he thought, "Ah, we're nearer, we're overhauling them without a shadow of doubt! I give them a quarter of an hour's more freedom."
It did indeed seem as though the pursuit was entering upon its last stage, for the black shape ahead was decidedly nearer—so near, in fact, that one could make out the various features of the launch as well as the two fugitives crouching beside their engine. Tongues of flame and broad showers of sparks still belched from the funnel, while at one moment, when she steamed into the dense shadow cast by some tall trees growing upon the tail end of a group of small islands which studded the lagoon, the funnel itself was seen to be glowing hot. Indeed, while the launch herself was blotted out in the darkness, the glowing funnel remained the one conspicuous object.