LITMIR.BIZ

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resulted in a man being stationed in the fore chains ready to take soundings; and soon after he was in eager conversation with the captain.

      “Feeling our way,” said Murray, almost in a whisper, as he and his companion stood together where the man in the chains heaved the lead, singing out the soundings cheerily till he was checked by an order which resulted in his marking off the number of fathoms in a speaking voice, and later on in quite a subdued tone, for the haze had thickened into a sea fog, and the distance sailed ought to have brought the Seafowl pretty near to the schooner, whose commander might possibly take alarm at the announcement of a strange vessel’s approach.

      “I’m afraid they must have heard us before now,” said Roberts softly. “Ah, hark at that!”

      For as the man in the chains gave out the soundings it was evident that the depth was rapidly shoaling, when, in obedience to an order to the helmsman a turn or two was given to the wheel, the sloop of war was thrown up into the wind, the sails began to shiver, and the Seafowl lay rocking gently upon the swell.

      “Bother the fog!” said Murray fretfully. “It’s growing worse.”

      “No, sir,” said the seaman who was close at hand. “Seems to me that it’s on the move, and afore long we shall be in the clear, sir, and see where we are.”

      The man’s words proved to be correct sooner than could have been expected, for before many minutes had passed, and just when the mist which shut them in was at its worst, the solid-looking bank of cloud began to open, and passed away aft; the sun shot out torrid rays, and those on board the Seafowl were seeing the need there had been for care, for they were gazing across the clear sea at the wide-spreading mangrove-covered shore, which, monotonous and of a dingy green, stretched away to north and south as far as eye could reach.

      “Where’s the schooner?” exclaimed Murray excitedly, for the Seafowl seemed to be alone upon the dazzling waters.

      “In the fog behind us,” said Roberts, in a disappointed tone. “We’ve overdone it. I expected we should; the skipper was in such a jolly hurry.”

      Frank Murray took his companion’s words as being the correct explanation of the state of affairs; but they soon proved to be wrong, for the soft breeze that had sprung up from the shore rapidly swept the fog away seaward, and though all on board the sloop watched eagerly for the moment when the smart schooner should emerge, it at last became plain that she had eluded them – how, no one on board could say.

      “It’s plain enough that she can’t have gone seaward,” said Roberts thoughtfully. “She must have sailed right away to the east.”

      “Yes,” said Murray thoughtfully.

      “Of course! Right over the tops of the mangroves,” said Roberts mockingly. “They hang very close, and there’s a heavy dew lying upon them, I’ll be bound.”

      “Oh, yes, of course,” said Murray. “She couldn’t have passed in through some opening, I suppose?”

      “Where is the opening, then?” cried Roberts shortly.

      “I don’t know,” replied his companion coolly; “but there must be one, and the captain of the schooner must be quite at home here and know his way.”

      “I wish my young officers would learn to know their way about this horrible shore instead of spending their time in talking,” cried an angry voice, and the two midshipmen started apart as they awoke to the fact that the captain had approached them unheard while they were intently sweeping the shore.

      “Higher, my lad – higher up,” cried the captain. “The cross-trees, and be smart about it. – Yes, Mr Murray, you’re right; there’s a narrow river somewhere about, or perhaps it’s a wide one. Take your glass, sir – the opening is waiting to be found. What do you think of it, Mr Anderson?”

      “I don’t think, sir. I feel sure the schooner has come out of some river along here, caught sight of us, and taken advantage of the mist to make her way back, and for aught we know she is lying snugly enough, waiting till we are gone.”

      “Thank you, Mr Anderson,” said the captain, with studied politeness, “but unfortunately I knew all this before you spoke. What I want to know is where our friend is lying so snugly. What do you say to that?”

      “Only this, sir – that we must run in as far as we can and sail along close inshore till we come to the opening of the river.”

      “And while we sail south we shall be leaving the mouth behind, Mr Anderson, eh?”

      “If it proves to be so, sir,” replied the first lieutenant gravely, “we must sail north again and again too, until we find the entrance.”

      “Humph! Yes, sir; but hang it all, are my officers asleep, that we are sailing up and down here month after month without doing anything? Here, Mr Murray, what are you thinking about, sir?”

      The lad started, for his chief had suddenly fired his question at him like a shot.

      “Well, sir, why don’t you answer my question?”

      “I beg your pardon, sir,” replied Murray now. “I was thinking.”

      “Yes, sir, you were thinking,” cried the captain passionately. “I know you were thinking, and saying to yourself that you had a most unreasonable captain.”

      Murray was silent, and the first lieutenant and the other midshipman, after exchanging a glance, fixed their eyes upon the monotonous shore.

      “Do you hear me, sir?” thundered the captain, as if he were speaking to the lookout at the mast-head instead of the lad close to him. “That was what you were thinking, was it not? Come: the truth.”

      He bent forward to gaze straight into the boy’s eyes as if determined to get an answer.

      “Yes, sir,” said the lad desperately, “something of that sort;” and then to himself, “Oh, murder! I’m in for it now!”

      “Yes, I knew you were, Mr Murray,” cried the captain. “Thank you. I like my junior officers to speak out truthfully and well. Makes us place confidence in them, Mr Anderson, eh?”

      “Yes, sir,” growled the chief officer, “but it isn’t always pleasant.”

      “Quite right, Mr Anderson, and it sounds like confounded impudence, too. But we’re wasting time, and it is valuable. I’m going to have that schooner found. The sea’s as smooth as an inland lake, so man and lower down the cutters. You take the first cutter, Mr Anderson, Munday the second. Row or sail to north and south as the wind serves, and I’ll stand out a bit to see that you don’t start the game so that it escapes. You young gentlemen had better go with the boats.”

      Murray glanced at the old officer, and to the question in his eyes there came a nod by way of answer.

      “You always have the luck, Franky,” grumbled Roberts, as soon as they were alone.

      “Nonsense! You have as good a chance as I have of finding the schooner.”

      “What, with prosy old Munday! Why, he’ll most likely go to sleep.”

      “So much the better for you. You can take command of the boat and discover the schooner’s hiding-place.”

      “Of course. Board her, capture the Spanish – ”

      “Or Yankee,” said Murray.

      “Captain!” snapped out Roberts. “Oh yes, I know. Bother! I do get so tired of all this.”

      Tired or no, the young man seemed well on the alert as he stepped into the second cutter, and soon after each of the boats had run up their little sail, for a light breeze was blowing, and, leaving the sloop behind, all the men full of excitement as every eye was fixed upon the long stretches of mangrove north and south in search of the hidden opening which might mean the way into some creek, or perhaps the half-choked-up entrance into one of the muddy rivers of the vast African shore.

      Chapter Three.

      The Cute Visitor

      The

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