s" (a sailing vessel in the
old United States navy) "was making up the coast, and we had to pull
out. We're short of water. Your grub comes in handy, though."

"I suppose then we might have been left, had we been a little later, or
the wind had sprung up sooner."

The captain shrugged his shoulders, then glowered at Ralph, who was
relating his adventures to several men about the cook's galley.

"When John Bull or Uncle Sam are as close as that fellow yonder, a
slaver has to look out for himself. Now, Mr. Duff, you are a gunner, I
understand. I want you to make ready our stern chaser. If they keep
on firing we must try to cripple their sailing powers if we can. It's
lucky she didn't happen to be a steamer."

But Duff, already somewhat piqued by Gary's apparent indifference as to
whether the yawl was picked up or not, drew himself up stiffly.

"When I shipped with you, Captain Gary," he replied, "there was nothing
said about my serving as a gunner. I must respectfully decline to fire
on an American ship. I am too much of an American myself."

Without waiting for the burst of anger which he knew would follow this
mutinous(?) delivery, the second mate wheeled and made his way to the
galley, where he ordered Neb to serve him breakfast in the cabin.

Gary gave vent to a subdued oath or two, then bottled his wrath for a
more auspicious occasion.

Meanwhile the Wanderer, when once fully under way, began to evince her
remarkable sailing qualities, especially in light winds. She steadily
drew away from the cruiser, whose people, having obtained the range,
were sending shot after shot, with a view of crippling the schooner's
sailing powers.

One round shot tore a great hole through the mainsail, as it went
shrieking by. Gary himself, aided by Rucker, got ready one of the two
guns wherewith the Wanderer was equipped and soon returned their fire,
though no effect was manifest.

The cruiser must have been informed of the character of the slaver, or
she would not have attempted to cripple her so persistently. Duff,
after eating, returned to the quarter-deck, where he watched with
folded arms the rather unskillful efforts to handle the long twelve
pounder pointed sternwards from the Wanderer's waist. At each
discharge a chorus of cries from the hold reminded him of their living
cargo, deepening still more his disgust at the nature of the venture
into which he had been inveigled.

The breeze began to freshen and