f all he surveys," like
Robinson Crusoe of old, according to the poem, and as "his right there
is none to dispute," both lads yielded to Burgesses sway, went down to
their berths, rolled in just as they were, and the next minute were fast
asleep, breathing more loudly than would have been pleasant to any
neighbour. But there was none.

Their sleep was very short but very solid all the same, and they were
ready to spring up wide-awake and hurry on deck just before sunrise,
upon hearing the trampling overhead of the watch going through the
manoeuvres known as 'bout ship, and then proceeding to obey orders
angrily shouted at them by the mate, whose loud voice betokened that he
was in an unusual state of excitement, for his words were emphatic in
the extreme as he addressed the men after the cry of "all hands on
deck," in a way which suggested to one who overheard that they were a
gang of the laziest, slowest slovens that ever handled a rope.

"Here, rouse up!" cried Poole. "Hear him?"

"Hear him? Yes. What's the matter?"

"I dunno. Any one would think that we were going to run the gunboat
down."

The lads ran up on deck, and stared in wonder, for instead of the
catastrophe that Poole had verbally portrayed, the reverse seemed the
probability. In fact, instead of their tacking against the adverse wind
having carried them well out to sea, the progress they had made in a
direct line was comparatively small, and to the dismay of both the
sleepers as they looked over the stern, there was the gunboat not three
miles away, foaming down after them under a full pressure of steam.

"How do you account for this?" said Fitz.

"I dunno, unless they went right in, got to know that we had just left,
and came after us full chase."

It was the idea of the moment, and to use the familiar saying, Poole had
hit the right nail on the head. It was morning, and Nature's signals
were in the east, announcing that the sun was coming up full speed,
while the former tactics of tacking against the freshening wind had to
be set aside at once, for it was evidently only a question of an hour
before the gunboat would be within easy range, and what she might do in
the interim was simply doubtful. But the skipper and his mate were hard
at work; the course had been altered for another run southward, close
along the coast; studding-sail booms were being run out from the yards
ready for the white sails to be hoisted; and a trial of speed was b