The little vessel flew along with the speed of an arrow, seemingly on the point of dashing herself in pieces on the rocks, against which the surf beat with a roar like that of a dozen cannon; but, under the skilful management of her young captain, doubled the projecting point in safety, and was earned on the top of a huge wave into the still waters of the cove. Now was the critical moment, and had Walter been up and doing he might have saved the Banner from the catastrophe which followed. But he did not give an order, and it is more than likely that he would not have been obeyed if he had. He and his crew stood rooted to the deck, bewildered by the scene that burst upon their view. A bright fire was roaring and crackling on the beach, and by the aid of the light it threw out, every object in the cove could be distinguished. The first thing the crew of the Banner noticed was a small schooner moored directly in their path—the identical one they had seen loading at Bellville; the second, a group of men, one of whom they recognised, standing on the beach; and the third, a cave high up the bluff, in the mouth of which stood one of the boys of whom they were in search, Henry Chase, whose face was white with excitement and terror. He was throwing his arms wildly about his head, and shouting at the top of his voice.
“Hallo!” replied Walter, as soon as he found his tongue.
“Get away from here!” shouted Chase. “Get away while you can. That vessel is the smuggler, and Fred Craven is a prisoner on board of her.”
But it was too late for the yacht to retreat. Before Walter could open his mouth she struck the smuggling vessel with a force sufficient to knock all the boy crew off their feet, breaking the latter’s bowsprit short off, and then swung around with her stern in the bushes, where she remained wedged fast, with her sails shaking in the wind.
The last time we saw Henry Chase he was sitting in the mouth of “The Kitchen”—that was the name given to the cave in which he had taken refuge after destroying the pirogue—with his axe in his hand, waiting to see what Coulte and Pierre, who had just disappeared down the gully, were going to do next. He had been holding a parley with his captors, and they, finding that he had fairly turned the tables on them, and that he was not to be frightened into surrendering himself into their hands again, had gone off to talk the matter over and decide upon some plan to capture the boy in his stronghold. Now that their vessel was cut to pieces, they had no means of leaving the island, and consequently they were prisoners there as well as Chase. He had this slight advantage of them, however: when the yacht arrived he would be set at liberty, while they would in all probability be secured and sent off to jail, where they belonged.