My men increased their efforts; and, as talking diminished their activity, I did not say any more, though I was anxious to know more about the Michigan. I did not yet understand why the bark should go to the coast of Africa, instead of Palermo.
"I put the Spaniard that went off with the first mate on board of a vessel a few months ago, which was seized before she got out of the harbor," said the boatman.
"Pull with all your might," I added, trying to help the man nearest to me.
"We are doing the best we can."
But we had not accomplished half the distance to the shore, and the pursuers were close upon us. A few more strokes decided the contest. I was in utter despair. The prospect of being in a vessel for three or four weeks, with Ben Waterford as chief mate, was intolerable, and I began to consider whether I had not better jump overboard. I felt as though I should never again see either father or mother, or the Gracewoods; and on such conditions life would be unsupportable. I do not mean to say that I meditated suicide; but I felt that I had better run any risk than be captured. If I had known as much then as I learned within a fortnight afterwards, I should have been even more desperate than I was.
"It's no use!" exclaimed my boatman, dropping his oar and giving up the contest.
The shipping master's boat ran alongside our craft, and the crew laid violent hands upon it. I was now face to face with Ben Waterford.