Читать книгу Idylls of the Sea, and Other Marine Sketches онлайн

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In striking contrast to those bright gleams the black blotch made by some toiling fisherman’s small canoe showed up against the bright waters like a patch of rock. Presently, out of the misty environs of a small island to leeward, came the faint but unmistakable sound of oars strenuously worked. The night-glasses revealed the sinister shape of a dhow heading towards us, a foam-wreath sparkling at her bows as if she was going at a great rate. “More slaves,” I thought bitterly, for night navigation is not favoured by Arabs except upon excursions that do not bear the light well. Fervently I hoped that some of my countrymen were lying hidden near enough to stop those incarnate devils on their infernal errand. Forgetting all else, I strained my eyes through the glasses at the swiftly approaching dhow. The course he was making would bring him closely past us, and eventually land him at the extreme northern end of Zanzibar Island.

Hoping against hope, I swept the horizon earnestly with the glasses, my gaze lingering for long in the direction where lay the guardship with five hundred eager fellows on board ready to take any risk to stop such a villainous craft as was now befouling the seascape, did they but know of her presence. I had nearly given up all hope, when to my intense delight I saw coming in our direction from Pemba a tiny cloud of black smoke. Hardly knowing how to contain myself, I rushed below, found a rocket, and leaning it against the rail, touched it off. With a hiss like a bursting steampipe it soared aloft, scaring my poor Malagasy helmsman almost into a fit, and bursting at a splendid height into five blazing stars, an imperative call to any cruising naval launch near. The flying slaver never swerved or halted. On the contrary, she was evidently adding to her speed. But to my satisfaction the small black thread of smoke ahead now showed a lurid glow running through it. Doubtless they had grasped the intention of my signal, and were making their little craft do her best to obey it. Within a cable’s length the dhow passed our stern, her straining crew yelling curses at us in mellifluous Suahili. Pitiful, indeed, would have been our case could those merciless flesh-hunters then have had their will of us. But with double-banked sweeps they strove to gain the shore, scenting the pursuers they could not see. Nearer drew the trailing smoke-wreath, until beneath it I could discern the slender shape of a steam-launch. And then I rejoiced to see her change her course so as to cut off the dhow ere she could reach the objective her crew were straining every sinew to attain. Breathlessly I watched the manœuvre, disregarding the unwelcome failure of the gentle breeze that again left us motionless. At last there was a flash from the launch’s bow, followed by a sullen boom, the sweetest sound imaginable to my hungry ears. Another flash, and then the bright foam faded from the dhow’s sides, showing that they had ceased their efforts to escape. A short silence ensued, followed by a faint rattle of small-arm fire.