“Does it not strike you that they are a long time getting the slaves on board?” said Jack at last to his superior.
“Why, yes, they are somewhat; but it is extraordinary how many poor wretches they will stow away between decks in those small crafts; but they take some time packing,” answered Hemming, in a whisper. “Probably too the raft is small and does not carry many at a time.” They waited some time longer till the former sounds continued, which showed that the raft was still going backwards and forwards.
“I cannot make it out,” muttered Hemming; “the villains are a long time about their work. They little dream that we are close to them, or they would be rather smarter about it.”
Some time longer passed, and then Jack proposed returning to his lookout place, to try and make out what was occurring. It was no easy undertaking, scrambling along over the slippery rocks in the dark, with a chance, if he lost his hold, of a tumble into some dark deep pool, or of getting jammed in some crevice, or perhaps being caught by some prowling ground shark or other monster of the ocean. However, he reached the point as which he aimed, but he had not been there a minute before he heard that peculiar sound of heavy blocks working, cheep, cheep, cheep. He made out clearly the tall pointed lateen sails of the felucca rising from her decks, and then the sound of the windlass working reached his ears; while a breeze, not felt below and every moment increasing, fanned his cheeks. He hurried back as fast as he could to the boat. As he sprang on board, he exclaimed, “The felucca is under weigh, and there’s a breeze off the land.”
In a moment the crew threw up their oars, the boat was shoved off from the rocks, and emerging from their hiding-place, away she started in chase of the slaver.
Chapter Twenty One.
Desperate Fighting.
On flew the felucca, urged by sails and oars. The Ranger’s boat dashed after her.