"Hallo! what's the matter now?" he added, as the man up aloft shouted "Sail ho!" and glasses were rapidly brought to bear upon a point miles away down south, where a few palm trees were dimly-seen through the hot haze. "What do you make of her, Mr Russell?" said the captain to the young officer, who had gone aloft. "Barque, sir. Small. Heavily-rigged. She's going right in. There must be either a bay there, or a large river." "No mention of any bay or harbour there," said the captain. "Looks bad--or good," he added. "What else can you make out?" "Nothing, sir. The trees hide her now completely." "Slaver, then, without a doubt. Now, gentlemen, she has gone in without seeing us, and it will be our fault if she gets away. We must have no mistake this time." "Hurray!" whispered Bob to his companion. "Prize-money at last." "Chickens," said Mark. "What do you mean?" "Don't count 'em till they're hatched." "Get out, croaker!" Just then the two blacks came along the deck, looking very smart in their white sailor trousers, and not a little proud of their straw hats. Each man brightened up and displayed his teeth, as he saw the midshipmen, muttering something incomprehensible in reply to Bob's "How do, Soup? How are you, Taters?" and passing on. "I say," said Mark, "it's too bad to nickname the poor fellows like that." "Not a bit of it. What's in a name? They answer to 'em right enough, and the men like 'em." "Yes, of course they do. Whoever heard of a sailor who didn't like a bit of fun of that kind?" "Oh, then you call it fun?" "Yes--ill-natured fun." "Bother! Here's the skipper. Let's seem to be doing something, or we shall be lectured." But Captain Maitland was too eager about the sailing of his ship, and paid no heed to the midshipmen's idleness, only thinking as he was of getting round the land in front, and overhauling the stranger, who was now quite out of sight beyond the point, and it took two hours to get within sight again. But they found that, instead of there being a river, the coast turned sharply to the east, and the barque, in place of being close to them, was sailing steadily away east and south, and farther from them than ever. "Bah! another false alarm," cried Mr Staples; "are we never to capture one of the scoundrels?" Just then Mark touched his elbow, and pointed to a vessel which had been unnoticed before, lying as it did close under the shore, with bare poles raked well back, and the whole of the long, low, schooner-rigged vessel wearing a look of having been built for swift-sailing more than for any ordinary trading purpose. "Well done, sharp eyes!" cried the lieutenant; "that's one of the scoundrels;" and the course of the _Nautilus_ was changed directly with a peculiar result.