“The Defence!” exclaimed the skipper, joy in his voice, “and bearing down to hunt for us.”
Like a great bird the schooner loomed up through the darkness; her mainsail, topsails and jib were set and bellying to the breeze; the ripple of the water at her foot could be plainly heard, for she was almost upon them when Tom discovered her.
“Ahoy!” shouted the skipper. “Schooner, ahoy!”
A prompt response came from the Defence’s deck; she swept about with the grace of a hawk; and all hands were soon on board and the gig and pinnace swung up after them.
“Make all sail,” said Captain Deering to Mr. Johnson. The mate’s deep tones rang through the schooner; blocks creaked, ropes were manned, and seamen swarmed into the rigging. Then like a great, white ghost the Defence fell into the breeze and swept out of the harbor, leaving the pursuing boats to return to the frigate with the news of the prisoners’ escape.
As Tom leaned on the quarter-rail and gazed eagerly back over the schooner’s white track he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Come, lad, forgive me,” said his Uncle Dick; “you see for yourself, don’t you, that it was useless to go nearer the frigate?”
Tom gripped his uncle’s hand. “Yes,” he said, “you were right, of course, uncle. But it’s pretty hard to have been so near, and, and——”
He could not finish the sentence, but turned away abruptly, and for many a day Tom had a heavy heart.