CHAPTER IX.
ADRIFT IN THE PACIFIC.
But hardly had Dayton started on the errand which would have spelled disaster to the hopes of Nat and his friend when something happened that, for the time being at least, put all other thoughts out of their heads.
There was a sharp warning shout from forward, followed by a splitting, tearing sound.
The schooner heeled sharply, throwing Nat the length of the boat in which he was concealed. A sharp puff of wind—hot as if from an opened oven door—swept over the sea and passed on. It left the air motionless as before, but it had stripped the schooner of her headsails as Nat could make out by the shouts and cries on her decks.
Utterly forgetting his duty in the emergency—indeed in the dead calm which had followed he was not of any particular use at the wheel—the helmsman followed Colonel Morello and Dayton as they bounded forward.
The moment to act had arrived. Rapidly Nat cast off the falls, belaying them around a cleat. Then he paid out on them and the boat dropped rapidly and noiselessly to the water. A moment later Captain Nelsen, who had been on the lookout, reached out for the dangling rope to the end of which the sapphire chest was attached. He caught it and slid into the boat with the dexterity of a seaman.
"Great Bull Whales, lad," he exclaimed as he landed in the little craft, "voss vos keeping you such a dime? You haf hadt me scared by mein death aind't idt. I dought me sure dot dey had caught you."
"What kept me, captain?" repeated Nat, in a breathless voice. "Just this."
He indicated the sapphire chest dangling just above them.
"Donnerblitzen, boy, vos iss dot? Provisions?"
"No, sir. It's the sapphire chest I told you about. The one that these scamps robbed me of."
"Ach himmel, undt you gedt it back. Poy, you iss a vounder, aind't idt? Budt don't told it to me aboudt it now alretty. Ledt me hear it later. Vee haf no time to lose."
Reaching up Nat cut the rope that held the chest suspended and exerting his strength lowered it into the boat.
"Now then, we're ready," he said, getting out the oars. "I think—hark!"
From the cabin port above them there came a roar—a bull-like bellow of rage. It was Swensen's voice. Evidently he had just awakened and discovered that the chest had vanished.
"Morello! Dayton!" they could hear him thunder out. "Der chest! Der chest bane gone!"
"Undt it's time dot vee bane gone, too," echoed Captain Nelsen. "Gif vay mit dose oars, ladt."
"Which way shall I pull, captain?"
"Any place avay from der schooner. Pretty soon dis be like vun hornets' nest, alretty yet."
Nat needed no urging, and began to propel the boat in a direction which was easterly, although he took no particular account of it. The sea hardly heaved and it had grown blisteringly hot. The schooner as they left her was wallowing in the heavy swell like a dead whale.
"Py Yupiter, dere go der firevorks," exclaimed Captain Nelsen, as more and more water showed between the schooner and the boat.
He was right; there were "fireworks" on board the "Nettie Nelsen." Swensen had burst from the cabin, first undoing the locks and bolts like an infuriated bull. It had not taken him long to communicate his tidings to Morello and Dayton. The discovery that the boat had gone almost instantly followed, giving those on board an easy clue as to how their prisoners had escaped.
"Shoudt avay! Shoudt avay!" grinned Captain Nelsen to himself. "Vee godt der only boat on board der 'Nettie Nelsen,' undt if you vant us, you got to schwim for us, by Yupiter!"
This was true. In the dead calm which prevailed it was obviously impossible to work the schooner even had her headsails not been in such sad disorder. But if they reckoned on getting off scot free, the two adventurers in the boat were sadly mistaken.
All at once the sea was illuminated with a glare as red as blood. The sudden flare came from the schooner's stern, where, by Morello's orders, a Coston light had been ignited. Nat had just time to see several figures with leveled rifles peering about for a sight of the boat when a bullet came singing by him. Another and another followed. But not one hit. Then the light died down and darkness fell once more.
Across the water they could hear voices on board the schooner distinctly.
"We'll never hit them by this kind of light," Dayton could be heard saying.
"Bah!" came Morello's response; "don't aim for them—aim for the boat and aim to sink it!"
Before either Nat or the captain had time to digest this alarming order another light flared up. Evidently the rascals had ransacked the locker in which the schooner's signaling apparatus was kept. This time it was a weird blue light that spread out upon the blackness of the night.
Following Morello's advice, the marksmen were now aiming for the boat itself. The bullets pattered like hail on the water about them. Suddenly there was a ripping sound and a shower of splinters flew about Nat, who was laboring gallantly at the oars.
"Apove der vater line," announced Captain Nelsen calmly. In the glare cast by the light the white wound on the gunwale of the boat could be seen distinctly.
"But it shows that they have our range," commented Nat. "The next one will do more damage."
The boy was right.
After a dozen more bullets had pattered about them, two missiles simultaneously pierced the side of the boat below the water line. The sea began to squirt in in two little fountains. But Captain Nelsen was prepared for just such an emergency. Pulling out his immense red bandanna handkerchief, he tore it into strips and plugged the holes.
A few seconds later the glare died down, and they were safe for the time being. Nat rowed desperately to get out of range before those on board the schooner could light another flare.
Whether he would have succeeded in this purpose, however, is destined not to be known. Hardly had the blue flare died out before the night was illuminated with an even more ghastly radiance. The lightning began a regular witch-dance to the westward of the schooner and the boat. It patterned the night sky like a bit of fine lacework.
It was well that they had that light by which to see and prepare for the peril that now menaced them. As it was, however, Captain Nelsen had barely time to shout a warning before another puff of the same hot wind as had assailed the schooner blew sharply over them. At the same instant Nat, looking up, espied coming toward the boat at a terrific pace what appeared to be a mountainous wall of white water. It roared as it came like a mighty waterfall.
All this, however, they had little time to note before they were in the midst of the vortex of water. By sheer instinct Nat dropped his oars and clung to a thwart as the wave rushed down on them. The next instant he felt him himself borne down by a crushing weight of water. The breath was fairly jammed out of his body, while tons of green water seemed to be above, about, and on every side of him.
At last, sputtering and gasping, he emerged into air again. But things were not as they had been before the passing of the mighty wave. The boat was now full of water to her gunwales and had she not been fitted with air chambers would inevitably have gone to the bottom. Nat was immensely relieved to hear the captain's voice beside him.
"Yumping Yupiter!" gasped that doughty mariner, clinging to the side of the submerged craft, "dot must haf been der daddy of all der vaves. Undt now look oudt for here comes der vind."
Hardly had he spoken before the sea was lashed into sudden fury. In the darkness they could see the white caps all about them. Horrified at this new calamity, Nat managed to shout out:
"Will the boat float?"
"Till der lasdt oldt cadt iss deadt," the captain assured him, in a hoarse shout; "as long as we can hold on we are all right."
"But we can't hold on indefinitely," objected Nat. "How long do you think this storm will last?"
"It is one of dose Basific storms," rejoined the captain, "dot don't last so very long. Maype dis be all over in an hour or so."
Fervently hoping that the captain might be correct, Nat took a firmer grip on the gunwale. The boat, thanks to her air chambers, rode buoyantly enough, and if they could but retain their grip of her they were in no great actual peril of drowning. But even if they rode out the storm, there was the question of food to be considered—and water, too. Truly their predicament seemed wretched. But desperate as it appeared, Nat found his thoughts wandering to the sapphire chest he had risked so much to recover. Was it still in the boat, or had it been washed overboard when the storm wave overwhelmed them?
The lad was still cogitating this question when a shout from the captain startled him. He glanced up on the tossing and wind-torn sea and saw a strange sight.
Coming toward them on a tack that would bring her quite close to them was the schooner.
Even under half-bare poles as she was she seemed to be flying over the yeasty, tempest-torn seas. On and on she came, seeming to Nat's excited imagination, to be a hunted creature, pursued by the vengeance of the storm. It was as if nature, aroused by the misdeeds of the rascally crew the "Nettie Nelsen" now carried, was riding her down with the hounds of the wind and tempest.