“And I dare not,” cried the captain.
Just then Mark again caught sight of something which was taking place on the schooner’s deck, not five hundred yards from where they pressed on in pursuit. It was hard to see at that distance, but he made out that a sturdy black was evidently renewing the struggle which had taken place before; but in spite of his efforts, he was being dragged to the side; then, to Mark’s horror, a hand was raised and a blow struck, followed by a splash in the water, which was scattered far and wide, as the young midshipman closed his glass with his wet hands, feeling as if it had revealed horrors which he could not bear.
“First cutters!” rang out, and the lad ran to the boat; the captain repeated his orders to the second lieutenant as the Nautilus was run on, so as to get as near as possible to the drowning slave before her speed was checked and her boat lowered. There, all ready in their seats, the boat’s crew waited. The expected moment came as the sails shivered, the boat kissed the water, the falls were unhooked, and in an extremely short space of time the Nautilus was gliding on in full chase, and the cutter’s oars were dipping in a quick, regular stroke which took them wide of the vessel’s course, as she literally darted away.
And now, as he stood up once more on the thwart, to try and make out the head of the black cast overboard, it struck Mark for the first time that they were alone upon the wide sea, and that the Nautilus was very rapidly increasing her distance, while the schooner, to his excited fancy, already began to look small.
But he had very little time for thinking.
“Be ready with that boathook,” shouted the second lieutenant.
“Ay, ay, sir. Mustn’t miss this one,” muttered the speaker to himself.
“See him, Mr Vandean?”
“No, not yet, sir.”
“You ought to, by now. Watch for the rippled water where he is swimming.”