“This 'ere's the lull at ween the sea-breeze an' the land-breeze,” observed the captain complacently, working the tiller from side to side as if trying to coax renewed life into the cutter. “How-somedever, it hadn't orter last long. Stow my sea-chest!—we'll turn in an' catch a wink o' sleep atween whiles. Here, Master Jack, lad! take a turn at the tiller, will 'ee?”
Settling himself in the captain's place, with instructions to call that worthy sea-dog should the wind freshen, Jack began his first watch. Becalmed as they were, the tiller was useless, so he let it swing, contenting himself with keeping a bright look-out. But soon he concluded even this to be an unnecessary precaution. Not a sail was to be seen on the moonlit expanse of ocean; and even had a score been in sight, there would still have been no danger whatever, in the absence of wind, of their interfering with the cutter. In fine, so secure did he consider their position, and so soporific an influence did the comfortable snoring of Don and the captain exercise upon him, that in a very short time his head sank upon his breast, and he fell asleep.
He had slept soundly for perhaps an hour, when a cold, touch upon the cheek startled him into consciousness.
Rousing himself, he found Bosin at his elbow. The monkey for some reason had left his masters side, and it was his clammy paw, Jack now perceived, that had awakened him. It almost looked as if the monkey had purposely interrupted his slumber. But what had roused the monkey? Jack rose to his feet, stretched himself, and looked about him.
The night was, if anything, more breathlessly calm than when he had relieved the captain. Upon the unruffled, deserted sea the moonlight shimmered with a brilliancy uncanny in its ghostliness. From the cutter straight away to and around the horizon not an object, so far as he could make out, darkened the surface of the water, except under the cutter's larboard bow, where the moon-cast shadow of the sail fell. He fancied he saw something move there, close under the bow where the shadow lay blackest. The next instant it had disappeared.
“All right, Bosin, old chap,” said he, stroking the monkeys back; “a false alarm this time—back to your quarters, old fellow!”
The monkey, as if reassured by these words, crept away to his master's side, whilst Jack resumed his seat, and again dozed off.
Not for long, however. It was not the monkey this time, but a sudden and by no means gentle thud against the cutters side that roused him. Awake in an instant, he sprang to his feet with a startled exclamation. Close under the cutter's quarter lay a canoe, and in the canoe there stood erect a native, with what appeared to be a boathook poised above his head. All this Jack took in at a glance.
“Boat ahoy! Who's that?” he cried sharply, his hand instinctively seeking the knife at his belt.
For answer came a savage, muttered imprecation; and the boathook, impelled with all the strength of the native's muscular arms, descended swiftly through the air. Starting aside, Jack received the blow' upon his left arm, off which the heavy, iron-shod weapon glanced, striking the gun'le of the boat with a resounding crash.