sed to be working in
collusion with a merchant, whose store up the river had been ostensibly
started for dealing in palm oil, ivory and gold dust with the above
chief, a gentleman rejoicing in the name of Quoshay Dooni.

Captain Maitland's plan had been well carried out, for the haze had
helped him; and after sailing right away, the vessel had crept close in
at dark; and as night fell with all the suddenness of the tropics, she
had reached the mouth of the river as aforesaid unseen.

After listening impatiently for some time, orders were given, and a
couple of boats were lowered, each furnished with lanterns for
signalling, of course kept hidden; and the monkey episode being for the
time forgotten, Mark Vandean obtained permission to go in the first
cutter, Bob Howlett being sent in the second.

"Whether we catch them or no," thought Mark, as the boat kissed the
water, "it will be a bit of a change." Then, after a few whispered
orders given to the second lieutenant, who was in charge, the two boats
pushed off, the men dipping their muffled oars gently, and after
separating for a couple of hundred yards, both cutters made their way
silently through what appeared to be a wall of blackness, while each ear
was alert to catch the slightest sound--the object being to make sure
that the slaver did not slip down the river in the darkness, and pass
the _Nautilus_ unseen.

"Keep that sail well over the lanterns, Dance," whispered the lieutenant
to the coxswain; "don't show a glimmer, but mind that they are kept
burning."

"Ah, ay, sir."

"Shall I take them in charge, Mr Russell?" whispered Mark.

"No, my lad; I want you for company. Keep your eyes well skinned, as
the Yankees say. If you sight the vessel first I'll give you a ring."

"Thankye, sir," said Mark, and then to himself, "No such luck!"

The next moment he was peering over the heads of the men, and to right
and left, straight into the black darkness, as the boat was steered, as
nearly as they could guess, right up the river, the only guide they had
being the steady rush of the muddy water which they had to stem.

"Seems a Blindman's Buff sort of game, doesn't it, Mr Russell?"
whispered Mark, at the end of a couple of hours.

"Yes, my lad, it's all chance work. I only wish, though, that we could
blunder on to the abominable craft. They'll be too sharp for us I'm
afraid."

Another hour passed, and they were still completely shut up in the
darkness, wit