Here was likely to be work. She might prove a Spanish or American vessel, or carrying the flag of one of the other powers which still permitted the slave-trade. If a slaver, she was not likely to yield tamely if she had a chance of escape. Many such vessels were known to be strongly armed, and to be commanded by daring fellows, who would be perfectly ready to fight if they saw a chance of success. All the boats, therefore, were manned, to be ready to attack her should she stand near the island; which, from the course she was steering, there was every probability she would do. Everyone looked forward to the work with satisfaction. The only fear was that she might be empty, and might simply be coming north to take in her slaves at Angoxa, or some other place farther north. Cutlasses were buckled on, pistols freshly capped, and other usual preparations made when fighting was in hand.
The wind was somewhat light, but at length the stranger’s courses rose above the horizon, when Jos Green, who had mounted to the signal-station, shouted out, “She’s an English brig-of-war, and is making her number.” Adair sent for the signal-book, and, inquiring the flag seen, quickly made her out as the Romp.
“Why, she’s been on the East India station,” he observed. “We shall soon know all about her, for she’s evidently steering for the island, and the breeze seems to be freshening. She’ll come to an anchor before long.”
Chapter Seven.
The Midshipmen swim for their Lives—Find the Canoe—Adrift on the Ocean—Their Sufferings—Picked up by the Romp, Commander Jack Rogers—Tom’s Meeting with Desmond and Archie—Adair’s Joy on seeing them—The Banquet on the Island—“Music hath Charms”—Burning of a Native Village—The Opal and Romp sail for Zanzibar.
When Gerald Desmond, surprised by the Arabs, was tumbled overboard, he happily managed to get his head clear of the cloth which had been thrown round it, and, striking out, he endeavoured to keep himself afloat, though he had little hopes of saving his life. Though the night was dark, he made out two or three objects floating near him. “Who’s there?” he shouted out.
“Is that you?” asked a voice which he knew to be that of Archie Gordon. “Help me, Gerald, to get this thing off my head, or I shall be drowned. Where are we? What has happened?”
A few strokes brought Gerald up to his messmate, and he quickly tore off the cloth which the Arabs had bound round his head.