course, forged so far ahead that, before the schooner could again hoist
her foresail, the Adams rounded to, less than half a mile away and
presented a frowning row of shotted guns to the slaver's stern. It was
a fair raking position.

Rucker threw down his speaking trumpet in despair, though Gary's eyes
were fixed keenly upon the advancing fog. A signal for the slaver to
lie to was followed by a peremptory shot athwart the schooner's bow.

At the same time a boat was lowered away, filled with armed men, and
started towards the Wanderer.

"Heave to, men!" ordered the captain. "But be ready to hoist the
fo's'l when I give the word. Down with your helm--down, man!" This to
the man at the wheel. "We mustn't give those fellows any cause to
suspect us--now."

While the boat approached, it was at times lost in the hollows of the
seas, but always rose again nearer than before. Meanwhile the Wanderer
lay to, with her mainsail flattened and her topsails aback.

Apparently she was merely awaiting the arrival of the cruiser's boat to
surrender herself. Many on board thought so now, and, in certain
quarters, bitter were the grumblings over their "hard luck." All this
time Gary, standing at the compass, alternately watched the cruiser and
the approach of the fog, while the schooner, deprived of headway,
rolled in seeming helplessness in the trough of the sea.

"Lad," said Ben to Ralph as the two slid down the ratlines when their
task aloft was done, "I almost wish we were back among those bloody
niggers ashore. 'Twould be better than standin' trial for bein' caught
on a blackguard of a slaver--bad luck to her."

"We must make the best of it," began Ralph, when Gary's voice
interrupted him.

"Hoist away there, men!" cried the captain, brandishing his arms
furiously. "Up with that fo's'l! Up with it, I say! Ease away on
those tops'ls. Lively now! Haul away on that jib. Flatten 'em, boys!"

The men worked like demons, for on the instant they apprehended the
daring nature of Gary's maneuver. Rucker, seizing the trumpet, echoed
the captain's orders in stentorian tones.

It was not until the schooner fell off broadside that these actions
were noticeable to those on the warship. But she could not now fire
without endangering her own boat, which was scarcely fifty yards from
the slaver.

So nicely had Gary calculated, that the breeze bearing the fog struck
the Wanderer's sails just as she was trimmed to fall