The Cruise of the Midge. Michael Scott

can look round."

      "Men!" shouted Lanyard, "keep a bright lookout; there are native canoes cruising all about us, and close to, in the thick mist there. Peer about, will ye? Small-arm men, stand to your tackling—clear away both guns. Hush—what is that?"

      "Nothing," said Sprawl—"I hear nothing but the rushing of the river, and the groaning and rubbing of the boats alongside against the gunwale."

      "But I do," said Pumpbolt.

      "And so do I," said Mr. Marline. "There is the splash of paddles as plain as can be—there"——

      "Where?" said De Walden.

      "There," said Binnacle—"there;" and, at the very instant, I saw the dark prow of one canoe emerge from the fog, the after-part being hid under the thick, but moon-illumined haze. Presently another appeared close to her, but less distinctly; both assuming a wavering and impalpable appearance, like two large fish seen, one near, and the other farther off, in muddy water.

      "Mr. Marline, fire at that fellow nearest us."

      The moment the musket was discharged, the canoe backed into the fog again, but we could plainly hear the splash and whiz of a number of paddles rapidly plied, as if in great alarm. But even these sounds soon ceased, and, once more, all was still. For half an hour after this, all hands remained on the qui vive, but the silence continued unbroken; so, after seeing the lookouts all right, Sprawl, Pumpbolt, and myself (as for Lanyard he would not leave the deck) went below to have a snack of supper, preparatory to making a start of it, if it were possible, whenever the swell on the bar was quieter.

      "Tol lol de rol," sung ould Davie Doublepipe. "Oh Benjie Brail, Benjie Brail, are we never to get out of this Styx—out of this infernal river? What say you, Pumpbolt, my man?"

      "I'll tell you more about it," said Pumpbolt, "when we have got some grub. But what Sir Oliver has done, or how he has managed without me, for these two days past, is a puzzler."

      "Ah, bad for you master," said I. "He will find he can do without you—should not have given him the opportunity, man."

      "No more I should—no more I should," responded the master.

      So we set to our meal, and were making ourselves as comfortable as circumstances admitted, when Binnacle trundled down the ladder in red-hot haste.

      "The canoes are abroad again, sir—we hear them close to, but the fog is thicker than ever."

      "The devil!" said I; and we all hurried on deck.

      Imminent peril is a beautiful antisoporitic, and we found all hands at quarters of their own accord—the devil a drum need to have been beaten.

      "Where do you hear them—where is the noise you speak of?" said Sprawl.

      "Here, sir," said one man—"Here, sir," said another—and "Here," exclaimed a third, all indicating different points of the compass.

      It was clear our enemies were clustering round us in force, although the fog was absolutely impervious at a distance of ten paces.

      "I say, master," said Sprawl, "the bar should almost be passable now for a light craft like this?"

      "Certainly," said Pumpbolt, "I make no doubt but it is; and if this cursed mist would only clear away, I would undertake to take the Midge, were she twenty tons bigger, slap across it, and pledge my credit she should clear it as sound as a bell; for we have a noble moon, and Brail there is quite confident about the river; besides, I took the bearings of the westernmost channel with the eastern point this very morning. No fear, if it would but clear. See if the moonshine has not made the fog quite gauzelike, as if it were bright and luminous of itself—Oh that it would rise!"

      The four little reefers were at this moment clustered forward, close to me; we were riding with our head up the river, and I saw one or two old hands alongside of them, all looking out, and stretching their necks and straining their eyes in a vain attempt to pierce the fog.

      "What is that?"—It was a greasy cheep, and then a rattle, as if a loose purchase or fall had suddenly been shaken, so as to make the blocks clatter, and then hauled taught, as if people were having a pull at the boom-sheet of a schooner, or other fore-and-aft rigged vessel.

      "What is that, indeed?" said Sprawl. "Why, look there—look there, Lanyard—see you nothing there?"

      "No, I see nothing—eh—faith, but I do—why, what is that?—Stand by, small-arm, men—go to quarters the rest of ye—quick—Poo, it is simply a thicker wreath of mist, after all."

      Pumpbolt was standing by, but the object that we thought we had seen descending the river was no longer visible, and I began to think it was fancy. Suddenly the mist thinned.

      "There is the spectre-like object once more," I shouted. "By all that is portentous, it is a large schooner, one of these slaving villains, who thinks he can steal past us under cover of the mist—There—there he is on our quarter—there are his royal and gaff topsail over the thickest of the fog—now his jib is stealing out of it."

      "Clear away both guns there," sung out the fourth lieutenant. "We shall give him a rally as he passes, if he won't speak."

      The strange sail continued to slide noiselessly down the river.

      "What vessel is that?"—No answer—"Speak, or I will fire into you."—All silent—"Take good aim, men—fire!"

      Both cannon were discharged, and, as if by magic, the watery veil that had hid every thing from our view rose from the bosom of the midnight river, and hung above our mast-head in a luminous fleecy cloud, which the moonbeams impregnated, but did not pierce, being diffused by it over the whole scene below in a mild radiance, like that cast by the ground glass globe of a sinumbra lamp—and disclosing suddenly the dark stream above and on each side of us, covered with canoes within pistol-shot; while the large schooner that we had fired into, instead of making demonstrations to escape over the bar, now shortened sail, and bore up resolutely across our bows, firing two guns and a volley of small arms into us in passing.

      "We are beset, Lanyard—that chap is the commander-in-chief. His object is not to escape, but to capture us, my lad—take my word for it," cried Sprawl. "Forward, master, and look out for the channel—Lanyard, I recommend you to let Brail take the helm—I will mind the sails."

      "True enough, by Jupiter," sung out old Dick. "Knock off from the guns, men—Shavings, stand by to cut the cable—hoist away the sail there—cant her with her head to the eastward—steady, men, and no rushing now. All ready there forward?"

      "All ready, sir."

      "Cut away, then."

      The clear axe glanced bright and blue in the moonlight, and fell twice in heavy gashing thumps, and the third time in a sharp trenchant chip. The next moment the rushing of the rapid stream past our sides ceased, as the little vessel slowly floated away, attaining gradually the velocity of the river in which she swam. Presently round she came.

      "Hoist away, foresail and mainsail—hoist—haul aft the sheets."

      The breeze freshened at the moment. We were still about a mile from the bar, on which the swell was breaking in thunder; but we had run clear of the skirts of the mist, and the placid moon was again shining crystal bright overhead. The yells from the canoes increased. A volley of spears were lanced at us, several of which fell on board, but none of them did any injury; and several muskets were also fired from the tiny men-of-war, which were equally innocuous. The strange sail was right in our path.

      "What shall we do?" sung out old Pumpbolt from forward.

      Trusting to the great strength of the Midge, Lanyard shouted—"Plump us right aboard of him, if you can't do better; but creep under his stern, if you can. So starboard, Brail—starboard—steady—that will do."

      "Steady," I replied; but he would not give us the opportunity, for as he saw us booming along, apparently aiming at him right amidships,