“We’ll soon stop him from doing that,” answered Rhymer. “You remain on board this craft with a couple of hands and I’ll go after him. Cox and Stone, you stay with Mr Garth; into the boat the rest of you.” The crew in another instant were in their seats, and shoving off, pulled away towards the other dhow. There was no time to lose, for already the yard with its white canvas was half-way up the mast. The breeze, too, was freshening, and as Ned watched her it seemed to him that she had a good chance of escaping. The boat’s crew were pulling as hard as they could lay their backs to the oars. He saw Rhymer standing up with a musket in his hand, and shouting to the Arabs, threatening to fire should they continue the attempt to escape. They were, however, apparently not to be deterred from so doing. Still the sail continued to ascend and the dhow was gathering way. Should the sail once be got up, the boat would have little chance of catching her. Rhymer, however, was not likely to give up the pursuit. Finding that his threats were not attended to, he fired one of the muskets, but whether any person was hit Ned could not discover. Again Rhymer fired, and then reloaded both muskets. Ned was so engaged in watching the boat, that he scarcely took notice of the proceedings of the Arabs on board his own dhow. He observed, however, that one of them, a young man with a better-looking countenance than most of his companions, had remained aft, while the rest were attempting to hoist the sail, though from some cause or other the halyards appeared to have got foul.
“Go forward, Cox, and see what those fellows are about,” he said; “I’ll take the helm.”
The seaman obeyed, while Stone, beckoning to the young Arab to come to his assistance, stood by to haul in the main sheet. The only thing in the shape of a boat was a small canoe which lay in the after part of the vessel. Aided by Cox, the sail was soon hoisted, but scarcely had the dhow heeled over to the breeze, than cries arose from the Arab crew, who made frantic gesticulations, indicating that the vessel was sinking. Ned at once suspected the cause; their second shot must have struck the bows of the dhow between wind and water, and had probably started a plank, so as to allow the sea, like a mill stream, to rush into her. There was little hope of stopping it. Ned put up the helm. “Lower the sail!” he shouted as he had never shouted before; the seamen endeavoured to obey the order, but the halyards had again become jammed, and to his dismay he saw that the bows of the dhow were rapidly sinking. As the water rushed into the hold the poor blacks uttered the most piercing shrieks, while the panic-stricken Arabs in a body frantically sprang towards the after part of the vessel; but as they came along, the light deck gave way beneath their weight, and the whole of them were precipitated on to the heads of the hapless negroes below.
“We must save ourselves, sir,” cried Stone, lifting the canoe. “It is our only chance, or we shall be drowned with the rest.”
“Where is Cox?” exclaimed Ned.
He had fallen in among the struggling Arabs and blacks. Ned caught sight of him for a moment, and was springing forward to help him out from their midst, when the stern of the dhow lifted. Stone launched the canoe and leaped into her, shouting to his young officer to join him, while he paddled with a piece of board clear of the sinking vessel. Ned seeing that Cox had managed to reach the side, sprang overboard, his example being followed by the latter, as well as by the young Arab who had remained aft. Before any of the rest of the crew had extricated themselves, the dhow, plunging her head into the sea, rapidly glided downwards, and in an instant the despairing cries of the perishing wretches which had filled the air were silenced. Stone, influenced by the natural desire of saving his own life, paddled away with might and main to escape being drawn down in the vortex. Ned had also struck out bravely, though he had to exert all his swimming powers to escape. For an instant he cast a glance back; the dhow had disappeared with all those on board; Cox was nowhere to be seen; he caught sight, however, of the young Arab, who, having clutched hold of a piece of bamboo, had come to the surface, but was evidently no swimmer.
“I must try and save that poor fellow,” he thought. “I can manage to keep him afloat until the canoe gets up to us.” Ned carried out his intention. On reaching the young Arab he made a sign to him to turn on his back, placing the piece of bamboo under him. Just then he heard a faint shout—it came from Cox, who had returned to the surface, though, like the Arab, unable to swim.
“Save me, save me!” shouted Cox, who was clinging to a log of wood.
Stone heard him, and Ned saw the head of the canoe turned towards where the seaman was struggling.
“Pick him up first!” he shouted to Stone. “I can keep this man afloat until you come to us.”