CHAPTER XVI
ESCAPE OF THE FIRST MATE AND CREW
The situation certainly looked hopeless for our lads, and the men on the sloop were already shouting derisively at them. Alaric caught another mental glimpse of the government prison, and even Bonny's stout heart experienced an instant of despair. He was still standing and holding the oar that he had used in sculling. Moved by a sudden impulse, and just as the extended boat-hook was dropping over the stern of the dinghy, he struck it a smart blow with his oar, and had the good fortune to send it whirling from the sailor's grasp. With a second quick motion the lad set his oar against the stem of the yawl, that was within four feet of him, and gave a vigorous shove. The slight headway of the heavy craft was checked, and the lighter dinghy forged ahead.
"Oh, you will, will you, you young rascal?" cried the sailor, angrily, as he leaped back to his thwart, and bent to his oar with furious energy. His companion followed his example, and under the impetus of their powerful strokes the yawl sprang forward. At the same time Bonny, facing backward, and working his oar with both hands, was sculling so sturdily that the dinghy rocked from side to side until it seemed to Alaric that she must certainly capsize. She was making such splendid headway, though, that the much heavier yawl could not gain an inch. Its crew, unable to see the fugitive dinghy without turning their heads, and having no one to steer for them, were placed at a disadvantage that Bonny was quick to detect.
Watching his opportunity, he caused his craft to swerve sharply to one side, and the yawl, holding her original course for some seconds before his manœuvre was discovered, his lead was thus materially increased.
Although not a very swift race, this novel chase proved as close and exciting a contest as had ever been seen on the Sound. The men on the sloop yelled with delight; and Alaric, filled with renewed hopes of escape on seeing that the distance between dinghy and yawl was not diminished, thrilled with excitement and shouted encouraging words to his comrade.
In spite of all this, Bonny's strength and powers of endurance were so much less than those of the sturdy fellows in the yawl that he realized the impossibility of maintaining his position much longer. With strained muscles, and his breath coming in panting gasps, he glanced wildly about like a hunted animal in search of some avenue of escape. There was none other than that he was taking; and with a sinking heart he knew that, unless some miracle were interposed in their behalf, he and his companion must speedily be captured.
But the miracle was interposed, and in the simplest possible manner; for just as Bonny was ready to drop his oar from exhaustion a shrill, long-drawn whistle sounded from the now distant beach. Its effect on the crew of the yawl was magical. They stopped rowing, looked at each other, and consulted. Then they gazed at the retreating dinghy and hesitated. They felt it to be their duty to continue the pursuit, but they also knew the penalty for disobeying an order from a superior, and that whistle was an unmistakable order for them to go back.
The cutter's third lieutenant had returned from his expedition into the woods with three wretched Chinamen, whom, despite their eagerly produced certificates, he had seen fit to make prisoners. He was amazed to find the yawl gone from where he had left it, and the details of the chase in which it was engaged being hidden from him by the intervening sloop, he gave the whistle signal for its immediate return.
As the crew of the yawl hesitated between duty and obedience, the peremptory whistle order was repeated louder and shriller than before. This decided the wavering sailors, and, reluctantly turning their boat, they began to pull towards shore, one of them shaking his fist at the boys as they went.