Carew and the mate left the cafÉ, traversed the brilliantly lighted city, and returned to the yacht. At an early hour on the following morning, Carew, too restless to sleep, came on deck. The sky was cloudless and the rising sun illumined the romantic scenery of the bay. A cool breeze blew seaward from the wooded mountains, odorous of spices and tropical blossoms. The sight of a world so glad and fair, so fresh and ever-young, might well make the saddest soul feel the joy of mere existence and look to life as a treasure worth the possessing.

A few months before this Carew had contemplated suicide—had regarded death as a welcome deliverance from his troubles. Now it was otherwise; he set a value on his life. The causes of this change were commonplace enough, as are most of the motives that decide the momentous crises of a man's history. A healthy life in the open air at sea tends to develop the instinct of self-preservation and banishes morbid meditations. Again, the longer one has been contesting some keen game of chance and skill, the more anxious one is to come off the victor. This man had been playing a clever and desperate game for freedom—which for him meant life—ever since he had left England. Fortune had favoured him so long that he would not abandon hope and acknowledge defeat now. The ultimate victory had become so dear to him that he was not likely to be very squeamish as to the means he should employ to obtain it.

So Carew had hardened his heart, or rather, having resolved on a course of action, he closed the avenues of his mind to certain unpleasant thoughts on the future. Not being as unscrupulous as his French associate, he found it necessary to employ an immense amount of self-deception. He allowed himself to drift, as it were, from one crime to another, trying to believe that his fate was compelling him; but he carefully avoided looking beyond the immediate present. He would not think of the far greater iniquities to which he was committing himself by the action he was now taking. He wilfully closed his eyes, and let the morrow take care of itself.

When Baptiste joined the captain on deck he was exceedingly surprised to find him in a cheerful mood, and anxious to arrange as quickly as possible the plan for the seizure of the barque. Carew found a relief in the active employment of his brain, and he now exhibited considerable ingenuity. He described his views in detail to the mate, who looked with wonder at this inconsistent Englishman, whose complex nature he felt that he was very far from understanding. With all his vacillation, when Carew had made up his mind one way or the other, he acted promptly and with energy.

"Baptiste," he said, "in the first place, we ought to be armed. We all have knives, but there is only one revolver on board. I want you to take my watch and chain on shore, pawn or sell them, and buy three revolvers and some ammunition. You can take charge of your weapon at once, but I will keep those of the two men until the time comes."

"That is right," said the mate; "those children are not to be trusted with firearms. The first time they played at monte they would be scattering each other's brains over the cards. I know a slop shop where there are generally some good six-shooters on sale. I will barter your watch there."

"Also ascertain the hour of the barque's departure," said Carew. "This is what I suggest. You know that the south-east trade wind does not blow home on this coast, but is deflected and becomes a north-east wind. In consequence of this, all vessels bound for Europe from Rio are obliged to take a long board of several hundreds of miles to the eastward before they fall in with the true trade wind, and go about on the other tack. Thus we know the exact course the barque will take. She will sail away close-hauled on the port-tack. We will put to sea six hours before her, and await her some ten leagues from the land. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly. I see you know what you are about, sir."

"Now call the crew aft," said Carew, "and let us learn at once what they think of our proposal."

Baptiste raised the hatch of the forecastle and roused the men. They quickly tumbled on deck.

"I am sorry to say, comrades, that you can't go on shore here," said the mate in Spanish.

They swore and grumbled in sonorous Castilian phrases that had best be left untranslated.

"Now no insubordination," continued Baptiste; "the captain would not deprive you of a day's holiday after so long a voyage unless he had urgent reasons for doing so."

"Reasons indeed!" muttered El Toro. "He who wants reasons can always find them."

"Silence, you old calf! Listen! We shall most probably sail to-day, for there is a treasure waiting for us outside."

El Chico pricked up his ears. "What! another Vrouw Elisa?" he asked.

"Something of the sort; but this is a safer scheme. Our necks will not be in danger this time."

"That's well for you, Baptiste," exclaimed El Toro, with his brutal laugh; "for your neck must be the most precious on this ship if we may judge from the value you set on it. Ha! ha! I never shall forget your white face and your starting eyes in that Dutch law court."

"My neck supports a head of brains and not a pig's head like thine, with only three ideas in it—rum, grub, and tobacco," retorted the mate. "But no more nonsense; listen to me, men."

Then he briefly disclosed the plan.

"Bravo!" grunted El Toro. "That sounds a likely bit of business. I will go and sharpen my knife at once. And so our English milord is a game-cock, after all, like the rest of us."

"He is worth fifty of you," said Baptiste. "He has the clever brains that can devise; and he is braver than you, El Toro."

"I acknowledge him to be my superior, even in courage. I have not forgotten how he defied the devil himself in the terremoto," replied the Basque.

Baptiste turned to Carew, and proceeded to speak in French. "The lads are ready to follow you anywhere, sir."

"They did not seem at all surprised, and received your communication in a very matter-of-fact way," said Carew.

"They are accustomed to strange jobs of this kind. But I don't think they quite realise what a vast sum we are going to make. Idiots! It would be a pity to give them too much. We must settle later on, captain, how to divide the spoil."

"Last night you said that it should be divided equally among us."

"I spoke hastily. I don't think so now. You and I appreciate money and know how to use it. These pigs would squander it. We will give them just enough to keep their mouths shut. You and I will divide the bulk. If we fill their hands with bright gold pieces, the ignorant wretches will imagine that they have got an inexhaustible fortune, and they will go away perfectly satisfied. I know the animals."

The mate, taking Carew's watch and chain with him, rowed on shore in the dinghy, and returned in an hour with three revolvers, some cartridges, and a quantity of plantains, yams, and other vegetables.

He leapt on deck. "Captain," he cried, "there is not much time to be lost. I have learnt that La Bonne Esperance—that is the barque's name—will sail without fail this evening as soon as the land breeze springs up."

"Then we will get under way immediately after breakfast," said Carew; "for the wind seems to be light outside, and we shall not travel fast."

The land breeze, which blows all night at Rio and refreshes the heated atmosphere, died away before the necessary preparations had been made on the yacht, and the usual calm succeeded it. So Carew had to remain at anchor until midday, when the sea breeze, that prevails throughout the hottest hours of the day, sprang up; and all sail being hoisted, the Petrel tacked out of the bay.

The yacht sailed out to sea, close-hauled on the port-tack; but the wind was very light, and she did not make more than two knots an hour.

At sunset the land was still in sight, and Carew took cross-bearings, so as to ascertain his exact position. Throughout the night the navigation of the yacht was conducted with unusual care. The helmsman steered "full and by" with as much nicety as if he had been sailing a race.

Every few minutes the officer of the watch looked at the compass, in order to detect the slightest change in the direction of the wind. Without these precautions it would have been impossible on the morrow to calculate with sufficient precision the track of the following barque.

At daybreak Carew made out that he was about forty miles from the land. "We have gone far enough, Baptiste," he said. "The next thing is to calculate how much nearer this yacht sails to the wind than a clumsy, square-rigged vessel like La Bonne Esperance."

"Our steering has been so good," replied the mate, "that we must have been sailing at least a point and a half closer than the barque."

"About that, I should say. We will run down to leeward some ten miles, and then, I think, we shall be lying right across her track."

The sheets were eased off, and the vessel was steered at right angles to her former course. As the wind was stronger, she covered the ten miles in less than two hours. Then Carew gave the order to heave-to.

While the yacht, her jib to windward, rose and fell on the ocean swell without making any progress, everything was got ready for the carrying out of their design. The dinghy was lowered; the men placed in it their baggage and some of the more portable valuables belonging to the yacht. Carew put into the sternsheets a portmanteau containing, among other things, the ship's papers, Allen's diary and cheque-book, the revolvers, and the drugs which he had purchased in Rotterdam.

Carew himself undertook to scuttle the yacht. He cut away a portion of the panelling in the main cabin; then, having bored a large hole with an auger through the vessel's skin, he stopped it with a wooden plug. To this plug he attached a piece of strong cord, which he led up on deck through the skylight.

The men stood by watching him.

"You see, Baptiste," he explained, "I have but to pull this cord, out comes the plug, and the vessel fills and sinks."

"That is all very well so far," replied the mate; "but suppose you have pulled out your plug, and your vessel is three parts full, and the barque won't stop to pick us up,—anything is possible at sea; such inhumanity among sailors is not unknown,—what will you do then? How are you to get at that hole again to stop any more water coming in? A wise general secures his retreat, captain."

"I have thought of all that, Baptiste," said Carew; "you have not seen half my arrangements yet. Follow me into the after-cabin."

Baptiste obeyed.

"Now take up the flooring," continued the captain.

When the boards were raised a long piece of lead piping was disclosed, which was connected with the end of one of the ship's two pumps.

"Cut that piping off as close as you can to the pump, and bring it on deck."

This was done; then Carew, to the astonishment of his crew, proceeded to bend the piping until it assumed the form of a lengthened U. Putting a bung into one end of it he poured water into it from the other end until it was full. Dipping the open end into the sea, he passed the other arm through one of the ports, so that it depended into the cabin below the level of the water-line.

"Hah! I see now; it is a syphon," exclaimed Baptiste.

"Exactly so. Now follow my plan. As soon as we sight the barque, I take the bung out of the inner arm of the syphon and allow the sea to pour in, until I bring the yacht down as near the water's edge as I safely can. Then I haul my syphon on board again and so stop the flow. We hoist signals of distress. If La Bonne Esperance won't pay any attention to us and sails by, all we have to do is to pump the water out of the yacht, and try our luck elsewhere. If the barque replies to our signals, and there can be no doubt about her intention to pick us up, I pull this cord, out comes the plug, in rushes the sea again, we jump into the dinghy, and as we are rowing off to the French vessel the old Petrel goes down. What do you think of that, Baptiste?"

"Excellent—excellent!" exclaimed the mate.

"And to avoid all chance of a hitch," continued Carew, who was interested in his work, "I am going to scuttle the yacht in another place, and lead another cord from the second plug on to the deck. Thus we will be doubly certain; for one plug may get jammed and refuse to come out, or a fish may get sucked into the hole and choke it. I have heard of such things happening."

"You are a very clever man, captain. When you do start on a job you carry it out in a thorough manner. With your pluck and ingenuity you'd make a splendid pirate, were it not for your unfortunate scruples;" and the mate sighed regretfully when he thought of the useful talents wasted on this Englishman.

At midday Carew took the latitude, and found that he had not misjudged his position. As the wind had not varied a quarter of a point since the yacht had sailed from Rio, it was almost certain that the barque would pass within a mile or so.

El Chico, who had the keenest eyes of any on board, had been sent aloft to keep a good lookout for vessels. He sat on the crosstrees, and in the course of the day reported several craft, but none answered to the description of the French barque.

Much as Carew had shrunk from the enterprise, he was now carried away by the excitement of the chase; and as the hours went by he became acutely anxious. He feared that he had sailed too far out to sea, and that the barque would pass him unobserved in the night.

They waited in silence, staring eagerly across the expanse of glaring water.

At last, at three o'clock in the afternoon, El Chico called out—

"There is a barque yonder that looks something like her."

"Where away?" said Baptiste.

"She's coming up close-hauled on the port-tack."

"Has she brown topsides and some bright green about her figure-head?"

"I can't make any colour out yet."

Then the mate went aloft with the binocular. After some minutes he scrambled down the rigging again. "Hurrah!" he cried, with a triumphant glitter in his eyes. "We have her safe! That is La Belle Esperance!"

"If we run a mile more to leeward we'll be right in her track," shouted El Chico from aloft.

All was now bustle on board the yacht. Letting the foresheet draw, they ran before the wind for about a quarter of an hour; then, heaving-to again, the cork was taken out of the syphon, and the yacht began to fill gradually. The barque was still more than three miles off, so there was ample time to prepare everything.

"Now for the signals of distress," cried Carew; "bring up the flags."

The two flags of the international code—N and B—were hoisted to the gaff end, which indicate that a vessel is in need of assistance.

"They won't be able to see that for some time yet," said Baptiste. "Your signal flags are too small."

"Then rig up the long-distance signal," cried Carew. "It is a square flag at the masthead with something like a ball beneath it. Hoist the large ensign, and fasten the life-buoy to the mast; that will look like a ball."

The barque was now heading straight for the yacht. When she was about a mile off Carew loaded the small brass signal gun and fired it.

About a minute afterwards a wreath of smoke was seen to issue from the barque's side. Then the report of a gun was heard.

"We are safe now. They will pick us up," said Carew. "Hallo, there! Inboard with that syphon at once, or the yacht will go down under our feet."

The men had been watching the approaching barque so intently that they had not observed how low in the water their own vessel now was. The cabin was three parts full, and all the movable articles in it were afloat. The syphon was brought on board, and they waited yet a little longer before taking the final step; for the wind had fallen light again, and the barque was making but slow progress towards them.

"Up goes some bunting yonder," said El Chico.

Carew looked through the telescope, and saw that the vessel had hoisted the signal H F, which signifies, "We are coming to your assistance."

"Now, then, all hands tumble into the dinghy," said Carew, as, seizing the cords, he pulled both plugs out of the yacht's side. "Good-bye, old Petrel!" he cried, leaping into the boat after his men. "Now, pull away, lads."

Carew's experience in scuttling vessels was naturally limited, so he had miscalculated the rapidity with which an already water-logged craft will go down if two large auger-holes are opened in her sides.

The men had not pulled a couple of strokes before the yacht's bow rose suddenly, her stern dipped, and she sank with a gurgling sound. So near was the dinghy that she narrowly escaped being sucked into the vortex.

They rested on their oars and gazed silently at the spot where the smart little yawl that had been their home for so long had floated but a moment before. Then, as the water smoothed over her grave, they looked over the side of the dinghy and beheld a strange sight. With all her white sails set and her flags still flying, the Petrel went slowly down, with a gentle, oscillating movement, into the depths of that marvellously pellucid sea. Two sharks accompanied her, swimming round and round her; one thrust his evil snout for a moment into the cabin hatchway, as if to see if there were men below. Lower and lower the yacht descended into depths where the sharks could not support the increasing pressure of the water, so, deserting her, swam upwards; still lower, till she appeared no larger than a toy boat, and they could still distinguish her; still lower, and at last she disappeared into the blackness of the still, under ocean.