The little craft, now being without a steering apparatus, quickly fell off and lost headway, and Pierre, with a loud yell of rage, threw away the rudder and struck out vigorously, expecting to overtake her; but Wilson seized the sheet in his teeth, picked up one of the oars that lay under the thwarts, dropped the blade into the water, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the boat was again under control, and rapidly leaving Pierre behind.
“There, sir!” said Wilson; “I did it, but I wouldn’t go through the same thing again to be made an admiral. I’ve got the yacht in my undisputed possession, or shall have in a few minutes, and what shall I do with her? Shall I lay off and on and make signals for Chase, or shall I go back to the village after Walter and the other fellows? Come on, old boy! I am well out of your reach.”
This last remark was addressed to Pierre, who, having been washed ashore by the surf, had run to one of the boats that were moored to the jetty, and was hoisting a sail, preparatory to pursuing Wilson. This movement caused the young sailor no uneasiness. He had a long start, and he knew that he could reach the yacht, slip the anchor, and get under way before Pierre could come up. He kept one eye on the man, and pondered upon the questions he had just asked himself; but before he had come to any decision, he found himself alongside the yacht. As he rounded to under her bow, he thought he heard a slight movement on her deck. He listened intently, but the sound was not repeated; and after a little hesitation, he placed his hands upon the rail, drew himself up and looked over. He saw no one, but he soon found that that was no proof there was no one there, for, as he sprang upon the yacht’s deck, and ran forward to slip the anchor, his feet were suddenly pulled from under him, and he fell forward on his face. Before he could move or cry out, some one threw himself across his shoulders, and seizing both his hands, pinned them to the deck.
CHAPTER X.
A LUCKY FALL.
“Are we not in luck for once in our lives? Who would have thought that the storm which blew us so far out of our course, was destined to prove an advantage instead of a hindrance to us?”
“Not I, for one, but I can see it now. If we had gone to Havana, as we intended, we should never have seen the Stella again, or Featherweight either. Now that we have found him, what is the next thing to be done?”
“We’ll talk about that as we go along, and keep them in sight until we have decided upon a plan of action. There they go over the hill. Let’s hurry on, for we must allow them no chance to give us the slip.”
This conversation was carried on by Walter and Perk, as they ran up the hill in pursuit of Fred Craven, whom they had seen going toward the village in company with Mr. Bell and Captain Conway. They knew it was Fred, and they knew too that he saw them, and was aware that they were following him, for once, just before he disappeared from their sight, he drew his handkerchief from his pocket and waved it in the air behind him. The movement was executed with but little attempt at concealment; but, although the Captain and Mr. Bell must certainly have seen it, they made no effort to check it.