“I fear that the guard ships keep too sharp a look-out to allow us to do that,” observed Martin; “still, I see no better way of making our escape.”
“We must wait for our opportunity; it will come, maybe, when we least expect it,” said Lancelot.
Buoyed up with this hope, when our watch was over, we turned into our hammocks.
Next morning a frigate came in, towing a boat. She passed close to us. On her deck stood ten men heavily ironed, their features, which we could clearly see, showing that they felt themselves to be in a dangerous predicament. The frigate sailed on, and brought up in the centre of the squadron.
Soon afterwards a signal from the flag-ship was seen flying, ordering two boats from each vessel to come alongside. Ours were in the water, when the captain ordered Martin and three other men, together with Lancelot, Dick, and me, to go in one of them.
“It may teach you a lesson, lads, which for your own sakes I advise you not to forget,” he said with a significant look.
“I am afraid the captain has an inkling of our plans,” whispered Lancelot to me as we went down the side.
We took our seats in our respective boats, which pulled away up the harbour. We found numerous other boats, the men resting on their oars round the flag-ship. Presently a gun was fired from her, and up went ten human beings dangling by their necks to the yard-arms. Some struggled in a way it was fearful to look at. They were the men we had seen on the deck of the frigate, and who had, we heard, attempted to make their escape in a boat, just as we proposed doing. Such would have been our fate had we carried out our intention and been captured.
We returned on board very low-spirited.
“We must be careful what we are about,” said Lancelot to me; “I have no fancy to share the lot of those unhappy fellows.”