"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 off. The cruiser, stricken by the brief calm which had previously palsied the schooner's movements, lay helpless in a double sense, being unable to either move or fire. "Make ready to go about," said the captain to the first mate, who bellowed the order through his trumpet. They were nearly abreast of the cruiser's boat, which, seeing at once what was up, fired an ineffectual volley of small arms as the Wanderer gracefully swept by, hardly a pistol shot off. "About ship!" said Gary quietly. "Hard a lee!" sang out the mate, and as the schooner rushed up into the wind, Gary, walking to the stern, kissed his hand satirically to the officers in the boat. "I've a notion to sink you," he muttered. "One solid shot would do the business; but perhaps 'twill be best for us to get away, doing as little damage as possible. It might be safer in case of subsequent trouble with the authorities." Close hauled upon her other tack, the schooner was heading diagonally towards the fog which was just at hand, like a dense, advancing wall.