"Skipper,", said the chief, "hadn't we better be doin' something? I think it would be a good plan to take them jibs and top-sails in before they take themselves out."
Tom cast a frightened glance around him—at the sails, the foam-capped waves, the angry clouds, and in a weak voice declared that it was utterly impossible for him to manage the vessel any longer.
"There isn't one man in a hundred who could endure what I have been through since last night," said he, dolefully. "A fellow can't keep up long with no sleep, and nothing but crackers and cheese to eat. I'm sick, Sam, and you or Xury will have to take command."
"Now look a here, cap'n," exclaimed the chief, who became alarmed at the prospect of being obliged to assume so much responsibility, "can't you stand it just fur to-night, or fur an hour or two?"
"No, nor for a single minute," drawled Tom. "I'm awful sick. I turn the command over to you. Carry as much or as little sail as you please, and if any thing serious happens, call me. I'm done for." And Sam thought he was, for he let go the rail and sank down in a heap upon the deck.
"Well, if this yere don't beat all the world," exclaimed the governor, in dismay, hurrying aft to consult with Xury. "Here's the cap'n clean pegged out, a storm comin' up, every rag spread, them spooneys close at our heels, an' only three of us left to make things safe, an' to defend the vessel if we are ketched. What's to be done? Can you be cap'n?"
"I reckon," replied the mate. "If you'll stand at the wheel, an' be ready to spill the sails when I give the word, me an' Friday will take 'em in."
"Be lively about it," said the governor, glancing uneasily toward the yacht, which, being kept in better trim than the schooner, was riding the waves as gracefully as ever, and gaining rapidly. "Them spooneys aint wastin' no time."
In twenty minutes the top-sails and jibs had been taken in and stowed away, the fore and main-sails close reefed, and the Sweepstakes began to make better weather of it, but the work had delayed her considerably, and, when the new captain took his place at the wheel again, the yacht was scarcely two hundred yards distant. During the remainder of the night she kept close behind the schooner, and Sam, watching her movements as the lightning revealed them to him, and noting the skill with which she was handled, told himself more than once that he had been sadly mistaken in the opinions he had formed concerning the students. He had hailed the approach of the storm with delight, believing that the young tars, rather than face it, would turn and run for the village; but there they were, following close in his wake, and showing no disposition to abandon the chase. The governor did not like to see so much perseverance exhibited by the students. It showed that they were determined to capture him.
And how fared it with the prisoners all this while, and how must they have felt, tossed about in their bunks as the schooner labored through the waves? They would have possessed wonderful courage, indeed, if they had not been thoroughly alarmed at their situation. They passed the long, dreary hours in listening to the roar of the wind, the washing of the waves against the sides of the vessel, the despairing cries and appeals that came from the store-room under the deck, the frantic blows that resounded on the hatch, as the robbers made desperate but ineffectual attempts to escape from their prison, and waiting, with all the fortitude they could command, to feel the schooner sinking under them, or to hear the crash that would tell them she had been driven ashore in the darkness. How they struggled to free themselves from their bonds, and how they shouted to attract the attention of the schooner's crew, adding their cries to those of the robbers, and promising, if they were released, to assist in navigating the vessel, and to make no attempt at escape—promises that would have been faithfully kept, if the governor had heard and listened to them. It was a night never to be forgotten.