“What ever does the boy mean? Has he lost his senses and gone mad?” cried the captain, in bewilderment, at the same time retreating a step, as though fearful that Phil was about to spring at him.
At that moment came a startling interruption of this tragic scene. It was the deep boom of a heavy gun, evidently fired from a considerable distance to windward.
Instantly all eyes were turned in that direction, where through the twilight was still distinctly to be seen a white steamer, with a cloud of black smoke pouring from her yellow funnel, and headed in their direction.
The exclamation of “A cutter!” was heard from a dozen lips at once, and, sure enough, it was one of those handy little government cruisers that are so dreaded by evil-doers, and afford so great a protection to honest sailors. She had fired a blank shot from her single gun as a command for the Seamew to lie to and await her coming.
The schooner was under way, and running down the wind to the eastward under easy sail. Captain Duff could not afford to be caught thus, red-handed as it were, with the bodies of recently-killed seals on his deck, and the green hides of others still unstowed. The steamer was yet a mile away. The Seamew was remarkably fast in a moderate breeze and smooth water, and night was coming on. He could at least gain time enough to conceal his illegal freight and to transform his vessel, to all outward appearance, into an ordinary fisherman. He might possibly escape entirely, and the chance was worth taking.
“Bring her on the wind!” he shouted to the man at the wheel. “Trim in! trim in! Up with your main-topsail, flying-jib, and jib-topsail! Lively, lads! lively! Drop everything else, and get sail on to her! Mr. Coombs, break out the main-stay sail and set it. Here, you! Help me get in these boats!”
Phil was so carried away by the excitement of the moment that before he knew what he was about he found himself working furiously with the captain and two other men at getting the boats that were still towing alongside out of the water and on deck.
By the time this was done the schooner was hauled on an easy bowline, which was her best point of sailing, and with every stitch of canvas that could be packed on her, was tearing through the water so swiftly that it seemed doubtful if even a steamer could catch her. Certainly, if the wind held, she could not be overhauled before night closed down. Still, while she was getting into racing trim, and on account of the alteration in her course, the cutter had made a decided gain, and was now much nearer than at first.
“Blow, good wind, blow!” shouted Captain Duff, as he stood on the after-deck, critically eying his sails. Phil Ryder stood a short distance from him, watching the cutter, and experiencing a return of the bitter feelings he had forgotten during the recent period of excitement and action.
“Oh, I hope she will catch us!” he exclaimed, aloud, though unconsciously.