A low, deep sigh made the young officer start and look round from the dead figure which fascinated him, to see the big black, whose face was working, and he looked hard now at the young officer, and pointed back at the cabin door, as if asking to be led on deck to avenge his fellow-countryman who had passed before them, another victim to the hated slaving--a black bar across a grand nation's fair fame. "Yes," said Mark, slowly, as he looked at the negro, and met his appealing eyes, and spoke as if the man could comprehend every word, "we will punish them for this. The wretches deserve no mercy at our hands." The great black could hardly grasp a word, but he smiled, as if a great satisfaction had filled his breast. For the tones in which the boy officer spoke and his manner were sufficient to make him stand back against the bulkhead with his arms folded, as if waiting for his superior's orders, and patiently watching as Mark called what may be dubbed a council of war. The difficulty was to propose a plan of action, but Tom Fillot said cheerily: "Don't know that there's much difficulty about it, sir. Them Yankees have shown us the way. All we've got to do is to follow their lead. Why not?" "'Cause they'll take jolly good care we don't, messmate," said Dick Bannock, wagging his head. "We've guv 'em a lesson in taking care of prisoners, and take my word on it, Tom Fillot, they've larnt it by heart." "Hark!" cried Tom Fillot; "they're a-lowering down the boat." For the chirruping of the little wheels of the falls sounded familiarly on their ears. "It's to go to the other schooner," cried Mark, excitedly. "They'll take Dance and Grote prisoners too. Do you think you could reach the tow-rope, Tom?" The sailor looked out from the little window and upward. "No, sir," he said, despondently. "Too high up, and that chap's waiting to give me one on the head." "Yes; that will not do," cried Mark, as the splash of the schooner's boat in the water was heard, and the voice of the skipper shouting some directions. Mark stood hesitating for a few moments, and then, acting upon a sudden thought, he placed his hands to his mouth, reached out of the cabin window, and shouted with all his might: "Schooner ahoy! Coxswain!" "Ay, ay, sir," cried Dance from the bows of the towed vessel, just as the boat with five men in glided into sight close to her right. "Danger! Prisoners!" "Hi! yew stop that!" cried a voice from the boat, and a man stood up and pointed a pistol at the midshipman. "Ay, ay, sir," cried Dance. "Keep the schooner off, and follow at a distance," roared Mark. _Bang_! There was a puff of smoke, the dull thud of a bullet striking the side of the cabin window, and, directly following, the sharp report. "Loose the schooner," yelled Mark, between his hands.