Three hundred yards—then two hundred—one hundred; and as the distance lessened their spirits rose. They were, however, half a cable length away, when a sullen boom was heard, and a solid shot came skipping along the surface of the sea to the left of the schooner.
"That is an order to 'stay where you are'," remarked Duff. "Ah! here comes our wind," he added, as a cool, refreshing whiff fanned their brows. "Any other time and I would welcome it; but—come down on her, Ben!"
Ralph, fancying that he saw the Wanderer's sails beginning to fill, sprang forward, seized an extra oar and pulled with all his might. The tired muscles were strained in a final effort, and the moist veins bulged about their temples.
"Boat ahoy!" came from the schooner. "Look alive or we'll leave you."
"Leave——" the rest of Duff's exclamation was lost as he threw his whole effort into a last spurt.
The shadow of the lofty sails was towering over the yawl when the Wanderer began to glide ahead. Another gun from the cruiser, and the ball drove between boat and schooner, missing the first by but a few yards.
"Boat there! Make ready for a rope!"
A sailor sprang upon the taffrail and the next instant a slim line uncoiled itself over the water. Duff, springing up, caught the end on his oar blade, and by a dexterous twist brought it within reach.
As he rose from making it fast, the yawl was spinning through the water in the schooner's wake, as the latter, heeling to the wind, responded like a thing of life to the wishes of those on board.
Hand over hand the mate drew the heavily laden boat under the Wanderer's lee, made fast the davits as they were lowered, and a moment or two later the three tired boatmen found themselves safely on deck.