After some reflection he took apart his mast and used the six foot strips as oars, finding that he made a little progress, though the task was fatiguing and the movement exasperatingly slow. Meanwhile the noise on the Wanderer grew hideous. The idle, untrimmed manner in which the sails swung, was a fearful indication that the untrained negroes were masters. When within two hundred yards he took a careful survey. The whole deck and the lower rigging were alive with blacks shouting, gesticulating, acting more like lunatics than sane beings. Something at the stern window again attracted his notice. It was a handkerchief being waved. He answered the signal by waving his hat. Then to Ralph's surprise and delight a white face was cautiously protruded. "I'll help that man off or die for it," was his next thought as he bent once more to the task of rowing. Had not the ocean been calm he would have made no headway. As it was, when he drew up some thirty yards from the schooner's stern, he was for the moment completely exhausted. Turning round, he recognized with joy the pale blood-stained face at the window. "In heaven's name!" cried the boy. "What has happened? Are any more of you alive?" CHAPTER XXV. The Second Mate's Story. The face at the window was that of Jacob Duff, the second mate. He shook his head in a melancholy way and beckoned with his hand. "Come a little closer. The blacks are drunk and have exhausted their ammunition. The magazine is in the lower hold, double locked and they haven't found it yet." Ralph slowly pulled under the stern where he would be protected from missiles. Over his head was a screaming crowd of savages who, however, confined themselves to unintelligible threats. The other boat was gone. Duff, leaning out, motioned with his hand. "There is no time for explanations now," said he. "Let us get away from here while those demons are too drunk to know how to hinder us. Heavens, but what a time we've had!" While speaking he handed out a pair of oars, a bag of ship's biscuit, and a breaker of water. Meantime the negroes evidently discovered that the boy was communicating with some one on board. The cries and uproar redoubled. The noise of a crowd surging down the companionway and into the main cabin could be heard. Then came a tremendous crash against the door of the stateroom. "Hurry up!" exclaimed Duff coolly, handing out the things all in a heap and scrambling to get through the small aperture himself. "I braced the door, but they are battering it down. Quick, Ralph, pull me through by the arms." [Illustration: "Quick, Ralph, pull me through by the arms."] The boy was none too swift. Tugging with might and main, he dragged the mate through and both fell heavily to the bottom of the yawl, nearly capsizing the craft, just as the stateroom door gave way.