I was allowed to go forward, followed by Tim, who gave me a queer look as he passed.

“What did you do it for?” I asked, when we were out of hearing.

But Tim only looked sullen and said nothing.

“I have half a notion to report you,” I said, angrily.

“Call away the shore boat!” came Hawkson’s hail, and, before we had a chance to say anything more, we were hustled into her by Mr. Gull, while the negro crew in Mr. Curtis’s gig dropped to the gangway.

Henry came in our boat, with orders to collect his men and bring them aboard, and we had just time to see the trader and his daughter embark with Mr. Curtis, followed by the jests of the gentlemen aboard who handed the young lady down the ladder. I felt very grateful to Miss Allen, and, as her laughter fell upon our ears, Henry turned and gazed astern.

“If I know the governor, there’ll be trouble yet,” said he. “That Yankee ain’t too well liked.”

As we drew near the landing, we noticed a crowd gathering, and an official-looking person in a peculiar uniform or livery came to meet us.

“I have a message for your captain,” said he.

“Is it official?” asked Henry.

“It is, and both imperative and immediate,” said the man.

“I suppose, then, you want to deliver it?” asked Henry.

“Your discernment does you great credit,” said the man.

“Why! Wh-o-o-a! Say not so,” said Henry, with impressive gravity. “In a hurry, eh?”

“I am, and it’ll be the worse for you if you delay me any longer.”

“Now hark at that man!” cried Henry, as his little eyes glittered. “Delay him! Here I am a-goin’ right along about my business, an’ here this chap comes up sayin’ I delay him. I’ll see the gove’nor about this. Come along, bullies,” and he sprang ashore, ordering us to follow.

“It’s the governor who will see you, you fellow,” said the man.

“An’ him a-callin’ me names,” cried Henry. Then in a lower tone, as we drew away: “Hi reckon ’is ’ighness’ll get along without us. We’ll want to hustle that crew aboard ’fore there’s trouble.”

This seemed harder to me than it did to the third mate, and I smiled as I thought of Jones, Martin, and the fighting Doctor. We quickly left the vicinity of the landing, and hurried through the darkening streets in the direction of the den kept by the truculent Thunderbore.

They were not there, and we hurried on in the direction the big conch told us they had taken, Henry apparently confident that we would have them in hand shortly.

As the darkness fell, and objects could not be distinguished, the desire to desert the barque took strong hold of me. Her mission was apparent now, and I determined to make a dash for liberty at the first opportunity. Tim’s peculiar behaviour troubled me, and I was somewhat backward in taking him into my confidence. However, when we struck into an extremely dark street, I thought his knowledge of the town would be of use, and I whispered my intention of clearing. The next instant we were plunging into the darkness, while Henry’s voice bawled forth, dying away in the distance:

“Come back, ye blazin’ fools! Come back!”

We ran wildly up the street until it ended in a thick thorn hedge, into which I foolishly plunged, getting badly scratched for my pains. The impetus of the run sent me through and into a ditch beyond, followed by Tim, who plunged through the opening my body had made. He landed heavily upon me, knocking the breath out of my body, and for awhile I lay there unable to rise. Then Mr. Henry’s voice, cursing a couple of fools, sounded unpleasantly near, and I started up, resolved to make a fight if necessary.

The little mate, however, refused to seize us, even though he could easily have done so, as he reached the bank of the ditch before we could get clear. He tried to argue the question, preferring words to blows in the darkness, doubtless fearing the knife in such an encounter.

“What’s the meanin’ of it, anyways?” he asked. “What yer runnin’ fer?”

“Go on, Henry,” said I. “Go get the men, but don’t try to get me back aboard the slaver, or there’ll be trouble.”

“Well, where ye a-goin’? What’s the sense o’ playin’ the fool when you have to be a man, anyways. I ain’t goin’ to te’ch you, but I’ll say right here you’ll probably get irons for tryin’ this fool trick.”

“When I’m aboard, we’ll discuss the irons. Now stand clear, or there’ll be trouble.”

Tim and I started across the clearing, heading for a light we saw in the distance. Henry declined to follow, and we left him swearing at our stupidity. Going on, we came to a pathway which led toward the house, and we had hardly struck into it when there was a rush of feet on the coral, followed by a deep growling.

“Keep clear of the houses. Cut for the cover back of the town,” said Tim, hoarsely.

As I sheered off, a huge animal sprang upon me and knocked me down, fastening its teeth in my neck and shoulder. I heard Tim cry out, “Bloodhound,” and then he flung himself upon the beast, while I tried my best to pull out my knife and get the animal in front of me.

The dog let out a deep, baying cry as Tim struck, and this was answered by several animals near the house. I soon had my knife at work, and, in spite of a lacerated shoulder, plunged it again and again into the ferocious brute. Then he relaxed his hold, and I stood up. A lantern flashed in the path, and, before we could run, forms of men showed close to us.

“Who is it? What’s the matter?” said a strong voice I recognized as Yankee Dan’s. Behind him were Mr. Curtis, Miss Allen, and the two stalwart conchs who accompanied them from the landing.

It was now or never. The dog was evidently done for, and we must run for it.

“Come on,” I said to Tim, and away we went.

“Halt!” came the deep voice of the trader. “Halt, or I’ll fire!”

“It’s the sailors; don’t!” cried Miss Allen.

We were going pretty fast, and must have been out of sight in a few minutes. Perhaps the trader did not wish to hit us. At all events, his shot whistled past, and we were soon out of range. Had he known the loss of his dog, he might have taken better aim.

We were soon in the thick tropical jungle, and, as it was almost impenetrable, we were forced to halt. We waited a few minutes to try and get our bearings, and then worked out into the open again, keeping away from all lights. In this way we blundered along for an hour or two, Tim swearing noisily at the darkness and obstacles that came in our path.

“It’s all foolishness, anyhow, for you to clear here,” said he. “They’ve hounds that’ll catch us in half an hour, and there’s no way to leave this island, without going to sea, before they hunt for us.”

“Well, show me a boat,” said I, angrily. “Anything that’ll carry a sail across the Florida channel will do, and, if you think I’ll mind stealing it, you know mighty little how I want to clear. I’ll face the savages of the Florida peninsula before going with that gang of nigger hunters.”

We skirted the town, and finally came out on the shore near the harbour entrance. Here we could find some kind of craft, for there were numerous spongers and fishermen in the town.

Tim finally brought up on the beach and tried to get his bearings. There was nothing in sight that looked like a sailing craft, except a dim shadow out in the harbour which gave promise of being an able sloop, for the tapering line that went skyward seemed to describe a tall mast. We cast about to find some means of getting aboard without swimming, for the water looked black and forbidding, and the phosphorus flared weirdly in places, and gave rise to a belief in the presence of that ugly fish, the shark of the Bahama bank.

While we skirted the fringe of rippling waves, which flamed and sparkled as they rolled upon the beach, we heard the deep-mouthed baying of hounds.

“My God! I told you so,” said Tim.

“They’re a long way off yet,” I answered, surlily.

“A sailor ain’t much at running, ye know, an’ we haven’t all night to clear,” he answered.

“Well, you’ve forgotten your gait mighty sudden, then,” said I. “How about this morning?”

But Tim had struck into a quick trot, and I followed, for the deep, musical cry of those dogs was anything but nerve-steadying, sounding as it did through the darkness, when not a tree or house showed us a place of refuge. It was take to either a tree or water, and, as there were no trees, I made ready for a swim, willing to trust the hidden monsters below the surface rather than those of dry land.

After running for a few minutes toward the town, the cry of the hounds sounded louder. They were evidently upon our trail, and it would be but a few minutes before they would close with us, and then capture would be certain. It might be well if we were captured before the brutes seized us, for, judging from the size of the one we had killed, they would make things pretty hot if it came to a fight.

“Into the water!” panted Tim.

We struck into the edge of the surf, splashing through the water where it was but a few inches deep, hoping thus to put the dogs off the scent. In a little while, however, we found this failed to check them, for, while they stopped a few minutes at the spot we struck the water, they soon showed sagacity enough to burst into full cry and come tearing up the beach in our wake.

We were now nearing houses again, and in a moment bright lights shone ahead. A large building on the edge of the town showed lights in many windows, and the sound of music and hoarse voices came forth. It was evidently a place for fishermen and traders to carouse, and we headed straight for it as the baying drew close to our heels. The door was open, and in we dashed, flinging it to in the faces of as ugly a pair of brutes as I ever saw.

The hounds were evidently well trained to hunt slaves, for they flung themselves against the panels until the lock burst and the door flew open, letting them into the room in full cry.

Our entrance into the company collected in that place naturally caused some commotion. The big Welshman, Jones, was in the act of footing a hornpipe with a tall, yellow girl for a partner; Martin sat with a mug of ale on one hand and a stout blond woman on the other, and he fiercely squeezed and pulled an old accordion, while the black Doctor howled and patted time with his bare feet upon the prostrate form of Ernest, the German. The rest of the company were ranged about, looking at the big Welshman, roaring or screaming as the case happened to be.

For an instant the crowd stopped spellbound at our headlong entrance. Martin was in the act of hurling the accordion at us in his anger at being interrupted. The door crashed in, and the two black shapes leaped among them.

The hounds, with their flaming eyes and lolling tongues, presented a hideous spectacle, and the effect of their headlong plunge was too much for the nerves of the drunken crew. There was a wild howl of terror and a general scramble. I knocked over one lamp, and Tim adroitly dowsed the other, causing total darkness, and then above the wild din I could hear Martin’s voice, roaring:

“’Tis th’ dev’l, man! Tis th’ dev’l! Gawd save us, ’tis th’ dev’l himsel’! Coom out an’ fight like a man, ye coward! Coom in th’ light, an’ I’ll whollop ye like a babe, ye sneakin’ traitor! Coom out an’ stan’ to a true Christian sailor--ho-oo-t!”

The screams of the women and bawling of the men, coupled with the deep baying howls in the darkness, caused a disorder hard to describe.

There were several windows in the large room, but in the wild scramble these were overlooked by some, and, before the hounds could disengage themselves from the struggling crowd, Tim and I had leaped out and were running wildly into the streets of Nassau.

Windows were thrown open and heads peered out, looking in the direction of the uproar, and I distinctly heard several doubtful encomiums pronounced upon the habits of sailors by some of the more respectable residents of that not very pious town. Then we fell into a walk, somewhat amused at our sudden deliverance, and soon mingled with the loungers upon the broad street, which at this early hour was still full of people.