"Yes, death on all sides!" murmured Glenarvan, crushed by despair.
It was indeed the yacht, they could not mistake her--the yacht and her bandit crew!
The major could scarcely restrain himself from cursing their destiny.
The canoe was meantime standing still. Where should they go? Whither fly? What choice was there between the convicts and the savages?
A shot was fired from the nearest of the native boats, and the ball struck Wilson's oar.
A few strokes then carried the canoe nearer to the DUNCAN.
The yacht was coming down at full speed, and was not more than half a mile off.
John Mangles, between two enemies, did not know what to advise, whither to fly! The two poor ladies on their knees, prayed in their agony.
The savages kept up a running fire, and shots were raining round the canoe, when suddenly a loud report was heard, and a ball from the yacht's cannon passed over their heads, and now the boat remained motionless between the DUNCAN and the native canoes.
John Mangles, frenzied with despair, seized his ax. He was about to scuttle the boat and sink it with his unfortunate companions, when a cry from Robert arrested his arm.
"Tom Austin! Tom Austin!" the lad shouted. "He is on board! I see him! He knows us! He is waving his hat."
The ax hung useless in John's hand.
A second ball whistled over his head, and cut in two the nearest of the three native boats, while a loud hurrah burst forth on board the DUNCAN.
The savages took flight, fled and regained the shore.
"Come on, Tom, come on!" cried John Mangles in a joyous voice.
And a few minutes after, the ten fugitives, how, they knew not, were all safe on board the DUNCAN.
CHAPTER XVI WHY THE "DUNCAN" WENT TO NEW ZEALAND
IT would be vain to attempt to depict the feelings of Glenarvan and his friends when the songs of old Scotia fell on their ears. The moment they set foot on the deck of the DUNCAN, the piper blew his bagpipes, and commenced the national pibroch of the Malcolm clan, while loud hurrahs rent the air.
Glenarvan and his whole party, even the Major himself, were crying and embracing each other. They were delirious with joy. The geographer was absolutely mad. He frisked about, telescope in hand, pointing it at the last canoe approaching the shore.
But at the sight of Glenarvan and his companions, with their clothing in rags, and thin, haggard faces, bearing marks of horrible sufferings, the crew ceased their noisy demonstrations. These were specters who had returned--not the bright, adventurous travelers who had left the yacht three months before, so full of hope! Chance, and chance only, had brought them back to the deck of the yacht they never thought to see again. And in what a state of exhaustion and feebleness. But before thinking of fatigue, or attending to the imperious demands of hunger and thirst, Glenarvan questioned Tom Austin about his being on this coast.
Why had the DUNCAN come to the eastern coast of New Zealand? How was it not in the hands of Ben Joyce? By what providential fatality had God brought them in the track of the fugitives?
Why? how? and for what purpose? Tom was stormed with questions on all sides. The old sailor did not know which to listen to first, and at last resolved to hear nobody but Glenarvan, and to answer nobody but him.
"But the convicts?" inquired Glenarvan. "What did you do with them?"
"The convicts?" replied Tom, with the air of a man who does not in the least understand what he is being asked.
"Yes, the wretches who attacked the yacht."
"What yacht? Your Honor's?"
"Why, of course, Tom. The DUNCAN, and Ben Joyce, who came on board."
"I don't know this Ben Joyce, and have never seen him."
"Never seen him!" exclaimed Paganel, stupefied at the old sailor's replies. "Then pray tell me, Tom, how it is that the DUNCAN is cruising at this moment on the coast of New Zealand?"
But if Glenarvan and his friends were totally at a loss to understand the bewilderment of the old sailor, what was their amazement when he replied in a calm voice:
"The DUNCAN is cruising here by your Honor's orders."
"By my orders?" cried Glenarvan.