Mark glanced up at the skylight, to see if they were being watched, and had ample proof of that being the case, for he could see the skipper looking down at him.
Directly after the man walked away, and they heard him giving some orders, which were followed by a quick trampling, and directly after, to the lad’s annoyance and disgust, the cabin was partially darkened by a sail being hung down over the stern.
“To keep us from seeing what is going on,” grumbled Dick Bannock.
“No,” said Mark; “to keep us from signalling.”
But though they could not see, they could hear, and they all sat listening with intense excitement as shot followed shot, and the schooner lay so much over to one side that it was evident that she was carrying a very heavy press of sail, and that the slaver captain was straining every nerve to escape.
“Now, then,” cried Mark, “be ready for a rush either at the door or up through the skylight, in case the boats board. We can then take the Yankee between two fires.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Tom; “strikes me, begging your pardon, sir, as some of us aboard the Naughtylass is terrible bad shots. I want ’em to hit us—forrard, o’ course; not here.”
“They could hit fast enough,” said Mark, petulantly, for he was in great pain, “only they are firing at the rigging, so as not to injure the slaves.”
“Course. I forget that, sir; only if they don’t bring down a spar, and the beggars escape again, where are we?”
Just at that moment there was a rattling and thumping at the cabin door, as if something was being removed; and as the prisoners listened, the skipper’s voice was heard at the skylight.