The diversion of which we have spoken was caused by the sound of stealthy footsteps, and an indistinct murmur of voices which came from the opposite side of the storehouse. Somebody was coming down the lane. Believing that it was the Don returning with the horses, Wilson arose slowly to his feet and stood awaiting the orders of the guard, while Chase stopped his walk and looked first one way and then the other, as if he were going to run off as soon as he could make up his mind which direction to take. The actions of the overseer, however, seemed to indicate that there was some one besides the Don approaching—some one whom he had not been expecting and whom he did not care to see. He stood for a few seconds listening to the footsteps and voices, and then moving quickly into the shadow of the storehouse, crouched close to the ground, muttering Spanish ejaculations and acting altogether as if he were greatly perplexed. His behavior did not escape the notice of Wilson, and it at once suggested to him the idea of escape. His first impulse was to rush out of his concealment and throw himself upon the protection of the new-comers; but sober second thought stepped in and told him that it would be a good plan to first ascertain who they were. He moved to the corner of the storehouse, and looking up the lane, saw four men approaching. They were dressed like sailors—he could see their wide trowsers and jaunty hats, dark as it was—and he noticed that two of them carried handspikes on their shoulders. They were so near to him that he was afraid to move lest he should attract their attention, and they came still nearer to him with every step they took. They were directing their course toward the storehouse, talking earnestly as they approached, and presently some startling words, uttered by a familiar voice, fell upon his ear.

“I tell you this is the house. I guess I know what I am about. When I first discovered it the negroes belonging to the plantation were gathered here in a crowd, and a white man was serving them with corn-meal and bacon. All we’ve got to do is to bust open this door, and we’ll find provisions enough to last us on a cruise around the world. Now, Bob, I want you to clap a stopper on that jaw of yours and hush your growling. If I don’t take you safely to Havana, I’ll agree to sign over to you all the prize money I win in that privateer.”

“I ain’t growling about that,” replied another familiar voice. “I don’t like the idea of stealing private yachts and running away with them. It looks too much like piracy.”

“Well, it can’t be helped now. The Banner is ours, and the best thing we can do is to use her while we’ve got her. Give me that handspike and I’ll soon open this door. Keep your weather eyes open, the rest of you.”

Wilson listened as if fascinated; and when the conversation ceased, and the door began to creak and groan as the handspike was brought to bear upon it, he thrust his head farther around the corner of the storehouse, and at the imminent risk of being seen by the men, who were scarcely more than four feet distant, took a good survey of the group. His ears had not deceived him. The men who had thus unexpectedly intruded their presence upon him, were none other than Tomlinson and the rest of the deserters from the revenue cutter. He could distinctly see every one of them. Tomlinson was engaged in breaking open the door of the storehouse, and the others stood a little farther off, some looking up and the rest down the lane.

“Now here’s a go,” thought Wilson, so excited that he scarcely knew what he was about. “Them fellows have stolen the Banner, and are preparing to supply themselves with provisions for their voyage to Havana. What will become of us if we don’t get that boat back again? They shan’t have her. We’ll slip away from this overseer and turn their triumph into defeat before they are ten minutes older.”

Wilson turned to look at the guard. The man was standing close behind him, and seemed to be awaiting the result of his investigations. Acting upon a resolution he had suddenly formed, the young sailor stepped aside, and motioned to him to look around the corner of the building. The man complied, and no sooner was his back turned, than Wilson ran swiftly, but noiselessly, along the side of the storehouse, looking everywhere for Chase; but the latter was not in sight. Greatly surprised at his sudden disappearance, and almost ready to doubt the evidence of his eyes, he glanced along the building again and again, and even spoke his friend’s name as loudly as he dared, but without receiving any response.

“He has watched his chance and taken himself off,” thought Wilson. “I’ll soon find him, and if we don’t upset the plans of Tomlinson and his crew, I shall miss my guess. Good-by, Mr. Overseer! When the Don returns and asks where your prisoners are, you may tell him you don’t know.”

So saying, Wilson dodged around the corner of the storehouse, and struck off toward the beach with all the speed he could command.

And where was Chase all this time? If Wilson had known the reason for his disappearance, he would not have had a very high opinion of his friend. That worthy had been thinking deeply since his last conversation with Wilson, and had at length hit upon what he conceived to be a remarkably brilliant plan for extricating himself from his troubles.

“The expedition is a failure—that’s plain enough to be seen,” he had said to himself; “and instead of trying to rescue Fred Craven, it strikes me that it would be a good plan to look out for our own safety. I am not going back to town with the Don, and the only way to avoid it is to desert. Yes, sir, that’s just what I’ll do. I shall be much safer alone than in the company of such fellows as this Wilson and Walter Gaylord, who are continually getting themselves and others into trouble, and I’ll see home before they do, I’ll warrant. I’ll get out of Cuba, at any rate. I’ll ship aboard the first vessel that leaves port, I don’t care if she takes me to South America.”

It never occurred to Chase, while he was congratulating himself upon this idea, that, in carrying it into execution, he would be making a very poor return for Wilson’s kindness and friendship. He forgot the fidelity with which the latter had clung to him through thick and thin, and the assistance he had rendered him in inducing Walter Gaylord to interest himself in his affairs. All he thought of was his own safety. The approach of the deserters was a most fortunate thing for him, for it gave him the very opportunity he was waiting for. He heard the voices and the footsteps, and the alarm the sounds at first produced gave way to a feeling of exultation, when he saw Wilson and the overseer move cautiously toward the opposite end of the storehouse. Had he waited a minute longer he might have escaped in company with his friend, and saved himself a good many exciting adventures which we have yet to relate; but the guard with his dreaded pistols was at the farther end of the building, and the chance was too good to be lost. He sprang around the corner of the storehouse, and in an instant was out of sight in the darkness.

Wilson, little dreaming what had become of him, pursued his way with rapid footsteps across the field toward the beach, taking care to keep the negro quarters between him and the men at the storehouse. He kept his eyes roving through the darkness in every direction, in the hope of discovering Chase, but was disappointed.

“He can’t be far away, and when I come up with him, I will tell him how we can beat these deserters at their own game,” chuckled the young sailor, highly elated over the plans he had formed. “If they came here in the Banner, she must be at anchor somewhere along the beach. As there are but four of them, and they are all at the storehouse, it follows as a thing of course that they must have left the yacht unguarded. It will be the easiest thing in the world to swim off to her, hoist the sails, and put to sea before they know what is going on. I declare, there’s Chase now, and the yacht, too! Hurrah!”

Wilson had by this time arrived within sight of the little bay, which set into the shore at this place, and just then, the rays of the moon, struggling through a rift in the clouds, gave him a fair view of the scene before him. The first object his eyes rested upon was the yacht, riding at anchor about a quarter of a mile from the shore. The next, was a stone jetty extending out into the water, beside which were moored several boats. In one of them a sail was hoisted. This was probably the one which the deserters intended to use to convey the stolen provisions on board the yacht. The third object was a human figure, standing on the beach near the jetty. He wore a cloak and a slouch hat, and Wilson thought he recognised in him his missing friend, although he at the same time wondered how he had come by the articles named, for he certainly had not worn them the last time he saw him. Hearing the sound of his approach, the figure stepped upon the jetty and moved nervously about, as if undecided whether to take to his heels or wait until he came up.

“Don’t be alarmed, Chase; it is I,” exclaimed Wilson, as soon as he came within speaking distance. “What possessed you to run off without saying a word to me? It is only by good luck that I have found you again. Do you see what those deserters have been doing?” he added, pointing to the yacht. “Let’s get into one of these boats and take possession of her before they return. We’ve got the best right to her.”

Wilson, who had shouted out these words as he approached the figure, was a good deal surprised at the manner in which his proposition was received. It did not meet with the ready response he had expected, for the figure, whoever he was, remained perfectly motionless and said nothing. That was not at all like Chase, and Wilson began to believe there was something wrong somewhere. He stopped a few feet from the figure, and peering sharply at him, discovered, to his great surprise, that the slouch hat covered a face that did not at all resemble his friend’s. It was a bearded face—an evil face—a face that was quite familiar to him, and which he had hoped never to see again.

“Pierre!” he exclaimed, in alarm.

“’Tain’t nobody else,” was the reply.

For the next few seconds, the two stood looking at one another without speaking—Wilson wondering what was to be done now, and trying in vain to find some explanation for the smuggler’s presence there, and the latter evidently enjoying the boy’s bewilderment.

“What are you doing on this plantation?” asked the young sailor, breaking the silence at last.

“I might ask you the same question, I reckon. We thought you were captured by the Spaniards long ago. That’s what we sent you out here for.”

“We? Who are we?”

“Mr. Bell, Captain Conway, and the rest of us.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Wilson, so indignant at this avowal that he forgot all his fear; “then Chase and I were right in our surmises. Well, your little plans didn’t work, did they? But you have not yet told me what you are doing here. How came you in company with these deserters; and how did you get possession of the yacht?”

“That’s Mr. Bell’s business.”

“So, he had something to do with it, had he? I thought as much. Where are Walter and the rest of the fellows?”

“We left them somewhere about the village.”

“Where have you started for—Havana?”

“That’s another thing that don’t interest you.”

“Yes, it does. I know you are going there, and that you will start as soon as Tomlinson comes back with the provisions. Will you take me with you?”

“Not much. We’ve got all the crew we want.”

“Why, Pierre!” exclaimed Wilson, “you surely do not mean to leave me here? I am all alone. Chase has left me, and I haven’t seen Walter and the rest of the fellows since four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Well, I can’t help that, can I?”

“How am I to get home, if you go away in the Banner?”

“That’s your lookout.”

“Now, what have I done to you, that you should treat me in this way?”

“You have been meddling with our business—that’s what you have done,” answered Pierre, fiercely. “You ought to have stayed in Bellville, while you were there, and attended to your own concerns. We don’t care whether or not you ever get back.”

Wilson, with an air of utter dejection, seated himself on the jetty, while Pierre, who took a savage delight in tormenting the boy, thrust his hands into his pockets and began pacing back and forth on the beach. The crew of the yacht had caused the smugglers considerable anxiety, and they had shown so much courage and perseverance in their pursuit of the Stella, that they had raised the ire of every one of her company, and Pierre was glad of this opportunity to obtain some slight satisfaction; but had he known all that was passing in the boy’s mind, he would have found that he had even more spirit and determination to deal with than he imagined. Wilson was only playing a part. He was firm in his resolution to recover the yacht, but knowing that he could not cope with Pierre openly, he resorted to strategy. By pretending to be completely cowed by the smuggler’s fierce words and manner, he had thrown the latter off his guard; and when he walked past him and took his seat on the jetty, Pierre did not raise any objections. By this manoeuvre, Wilson gained a position between the man and the nearest boat, which happened to be the one with the sail hoisted. That was the first step accomplished. The next was to draw Pierre’s attention to something, if it were only for a moment, until he could run to the boat, cast off the painter, and fill away for the yacht. He was not long in hitting upon a plan.

“I know what I shall do,” said he, at length. “I’ll stay here until Tomlinson comes, and ask him if he won’t take me aboard the Banner.”

“I can tell you now that he won’t do it,” replied Pierre.

“I don’t care; I’ll ask him, any way. If I can only go to Havana, that’s all I want. I shall be able to find some vessel there bound for the States. He’s coming now.”

Pierre paused in his walk and looked toward the plantation house, but could see nothing. He listened, but all he heard was the roar of the surf on the beach.

“I can hear them,” continued Wilson, rising to his feet; “and they’re in trouble too. They’re running and shouting. There! did you hear that gun?”

Pierre listened again, and then walked a few steps up the beach to get a little farther away from the surf. A moment later he heard the sound of rapid footfalls, and turned quickly to see Wilson flying along the jetty toward the boat.

“Stop!” he roared, springing forward in pursuit the instant he divined the boy’s intention. “You are not going aboard that yacht.”

“That depends upon whether I do or not,” shouted Wilson, in reply.

The race that followed was short but highly exciting. Wilson sped along as swiftly as a bird on the wing, scarcely seeming to touch the ground; while the clumsy Pierre puffed and blowed like a high pressure steamboat; and finding that he was encumbered by his heavy cloak, threw it aside, and even discarded his hat; but all to no purpose. Wilson made such good use of his time that he succeeded in reaching the boat and jumping into it, before his pursuer came up; but there his good fortune seemed to end. He could not cast off the painter. One end of it was passed around one of the thwarts, and the other made fast to a ring in the jetty, and both knots were jammed so that he could not undo them. He pulled, and tugged, and panted in vain. He felt for his knife to cut the rope, but could not find it. As a last resort he seized the thwart with both hands, and exerting all his strength, wrenched it loose from its fastenings, and threw it overboard, at the same time placing his shoulder against the jetty, and with a strong push, sending the boat from the shore. With a cry of triumph he seized the sheet which was flapping in the wind, passed it around a cleat with one hand and seized the tiller with the other. The boat began to gather headway, but just a moment too late. Pierre, all out of breath, and full of rage, now came up, and seeing that the boy was about to escape him, threw himself, without an instant’s hesitation, headlong into the water. He fell just astern of the boat, and although Wilson hauled hard on the sheet, and crowded her until she stood almost on her side, he could not make her go fast enough to get out of the man’s reach. He made a blind clutch as he arose to the surface, and fastened with a firm grip upon the rudder.

“Now, then!” exclaimed Pierre, fiercely, “I reckon you’ll stop, won’t you?”

Wilson was frightened, but he did not lose his presence of mind. Had he spent even a second in considering what ought to be done, his capture would have been certain, for the smuggler clung to the rudder with one hand, and stretched out the other to seize the stern of the boat.

“Pierre,” said the boy, “if you want that piece of wood, you may have it. I can get along without it.” And with a quick movement he unshipped the rudder, and the boat flew on, leaving it in the man’s grasp.

The little craft, now being without a steering apparatus, quickly fell off and lost headway, and Pierre, with a loud yell of rage, threw away the rudder and struck out vigorously, expecting to overtake her; but Wilson seized the sheet in his teeth, picked up one of the oars that lay under the thwarts, dropped the blade into the water, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the boat was again under control, and rapidly leaving Pierre behind.

“There, sir!” said Wilson; “I did it, but I wouldn’t go through the same thing again to be made an admiral. I’ve got the yacht in my undisputed possession, or shall have in a few minutes, and what shall I do with her? Shall I lay off and on and make signals for Chase, or shall I go back to the village after Walter and the other fellows? Come on, old boy! I am well out of your reach.”

This last remark was addressed to Pierre, who, having been washed ashore by the surf, had run to one of the boats that were moored to the jetty, and was hoisting a sail, preparatory to pursuing Wilson. This movement caused the young sailor no uneasiness. He had a long start, and he knew that he could reach the yacht, slip the anchor, and get under way before Pierre could come up. He kept one eye on the man, and pondered upon the questions he had just asked himself; but before he had come to any decision, he found himself alongside the yacht. As he rounded to under her bow, he thought he heard a slight movement on her deck. He listened intently, but the sound was not repeated; and after a little hesitation, he placed his hands upon the rail, drew himself up and looked over. He saw no one, but he soon found that that was no proof there was no one there, for, as he sprang upon the yacht’s deck, and ran forward to slip the anchor, his feet were suddenly pulled from under him, and he fell forward on his face. Before he could move or cry out, some one threw himself across his shoulders, and seizing both his hands, pinned them to the deck.