"What is that?" asked Flint.
"To get possession of the vessel," replied Christy, impressively.
"That will be an easy matter, with nothing but niggers on board," added Flint.
They talked together for a few minutes, and the plan was arranged. Flint saw that the fore topmast staysail was properly set and trimmed. The two Unionists on board did not even know the name of the schooner, but she gathered headway as she approached the mouth of the creek, and went along at a very satisfactory rate. The mate of the vessel and his fellow fugitive then went aft to be ready for the decisive action in which they were to engage. But they had hardly reached the quarter-deck before the schooner was hailed by a boat.
"Schooner, ahoy! On board the Judith!" shouted a man.
"In the boat!" replied the captain. "Who's there?"
"Fetters!" responded the boatman.
"Fetters!" exclaimed Captain Lonley, apparently bewildered by the reply. "It seems to me that Fetterses are plenty to-night."
But this was all he was permitted to say, for the stroke of a handspike, in the hands of Flint, fell upon his head at this instant, and he dropped upon the quarter-deck like a log. At the same moment, Christy sprang to the wheel, and the schooner was not allowed to broach to. She dashed on her course, increasing her speed every moment, without heeding the boat that had hailed her. In the darkness, the genuine Fetters, as doubtless he was in the boat, could not have seen in what manner Captain Lonley had been disposed of, and all the crew were forward, so that they were no wiser.
"Judith, ahoy!" repeated the genuine and only true Fetters, at the top of his lungs, as the schooner hurried off on her course. "I am Fetters, the mate!"