Tom, huddled close under the hull, holding to the loop of the anchor rope which hung down, listened. As he came on he noticed that the cutter was edging up, and that Nicky had been dragged off of the after deck. Tom believed that he knew why. They had threatened to do something to Nicky in order to stop the cutter from edging up.
A shrill cry from the Libertad, right over his head, made Tom almost let go of his rope; then he realized that to him it did not sound like Nicky’s voice! They were frightening the lieutenant with a falsified noise, the cry of a falsetto voice among the crew.
He could not see, clinging under the hull, but he guessed that the ruse had succeeded; he guessed, also; that, if ever, now was his moment to act.
El Libertad had drifted at least a boat’s-length back from the river mouth; probably most of her crew would be looking toward the cutter which must, by the changed position, be off her forward beam. Tom lifted his hand until he could loosen it from the rope without letting the cable slap the side, then dropped back into the water, pulled alongside the hull toward the stern, and there reached up and caught the rail with one hand.
Would he be seen?
Slowly he drew the other hand to the rail. Nothing happened. He suppled his muscles and then with all their aid working in the slow, upward pull, he drew his eyes level with the deck.
They were all forward, intent on something—Nicky or the cutter!
Tom pulled himself up higher, made an effort, and by ill fortune, on the instant of success, slipped on the wet rail, and plumped down in a heap in the cockpit, aft.
CHAPTER XXIX
ONE LAST HOPE!
Nicky, held, as he was, between two pairs of strong arms, with Mr. Coleson on one side of him and Tew on the other, saw that Lieutenant Sommerlee, with his two patrols in the cutter, was “in a fix.” It was plainly to be seen that the naval man did not dare to open fire, because of the threat to Nicky; nor did he dare to approach.