It being decided at last that Walter’s plan was the best, the boys, in order to gratify their curiosity, proceeded to examine the contents of the bales they had found in the hold. The first contained artillery sabres, and Eugene buckled one about his waist; but the others declined to follow his example, believing that the carbines were all the weapons they needed. The other two packages contained officers’ sashes, one of which Eugene also appropriated. While thus engaged they heard the roar of the guns from the fort, but they little dreamed that they were pointed in the direction the yacht was supposed to have gone. Shut in as they were on all sides by tight wooden walls, the sound seemed to them to come from a great distance. They accounted for the firing in various ways—the soldiers were rejoicing over some decisive victory the Spaniards had gained over the insurgents; or they were engaged in artillery practice; or perhaps a skirmish was going on back of the town. So little interested were they in the matter, that, after the first few shots, they ceased to pay any attention to the noise. They had their own affairs to think and talk about: what could have become of Chase and Wilson—they had searched the hold without finding any traces of them—and who had brought the arms and ammunition aboard? Where had Fred Craven and his keepers gone so suddenly? and what should be done with the unlawful crew of the yacht after they had been secured? By the time these points had been talked over, the Banner had accomplished the ten miles that lay between the harbor and the bay at the rear of Don Casper’s plantation, and then Walter declared that Pierre and Tomlinson had had charge of the vessel long enough, and that it was time he was claiming his rights again. The boys were ready to move at the word. It was a novel and perhaps desperate thing they were about to undertake, but not one of them hesitated. Grasping their weapons with a firmer hold, they followed closely after Walter, and gathered silently about him as he stopped under the hatch.
“Are we all ready?” asked the young commander, in an excited whisper. “I will throw off the hatch, and, Bab, be sure you are ready to hand me my carbine the moment I jump out. If any of the deserters hear the noise and come into the galley to see what is going on, I will keep them at bay until you come up. If we find them on deck, let each fellow pick out a man, cover him with his gun, and order him into the hold.”
“Yes, and see that he goes, too,” added Eugene.
“Perk, blow out that lantern. Stand by, fellows!”
The boys crouched like so many tigers ready for a spring; but just as Walter placed his hands upon the hatch, preparatory to throwing it off, a few harshly spoken words of command came faintly to their ears, followed by the rattling of the chain through the hawse hole, and a sudden cessation of motion, telling the young sailors that the yacht had come to anchor. This caused Walter to hesitate; and after a few whispered words with his companions, they all sat down on the floor of the hold under the hatch to await developments. But nothing new transpired. The yacht was as silent as the grave; and after half an hour of inactivity, the patience of the young tars was all exhausted, and once more preparations were made for the attack. Walter handed his carbine to Bab, and lifting the hatch quickly, but noiselessly, from its place, swung himself out of the hold into the galley. The others followed with all possible haste, and when the last one had come out, Walter pushed open the door of the cabin and rushed in. The room was empty. Without a moment’s pause, he ran toward the standing room, and when he got there, found himself in undisputed possession of his vessel, no one being on deck to oppose him. The yacht was deserted by all save himself and companions. The young tars, scarcely able to realize the fact, hurried about, peeping into all sorts of improbable places, and when at last they had satisfied themselves that the deserters were really gone, their joy knew no bounds.
“It’s all right, fellows!” cried Walter, gleefully. “She’s ours, and we’ve got her without a fight, too. I have some curiosity to know where those men have gone, but we’ll not stop to inquire. Stand by to get under way.”
“Shall I slip the cable?” asked Eugene.
“No,” answered Walter. “I can’t see the beauty of throwing away a good chain and anchor when there’s no occasion for it. Let’s man the capstan.”
While two of the crew busied themselves in removing the chain from the bitts to the little horizontal capstan with which the yacht was provided, the others brought the handspikes from their places, and presently the schooner began walking slowly up to her anchor. The boys worked manfully, and presently Eugene looked over the bow and announced that the anchor was apeak.
“Go to the wheel, Perk,” said Walter. “Heave away, the rest of us. Cheerily, lads!”