The cutter's crew under young Thring's command had been mistaken in imagining that they were taking Ahmed and his men by surprise. There is a saying: "You do not catch a weasel asleep," and the slaver-captain very closely resembled that animal, and was always on the alert and ready for emergencies. Thoroughly alarmed as he was by the apparition of the man-of-war in the offing, and of her boat approaching the shore, he yet trusted to his usual good luck--having never been captured by a cruiser--and hoped that his presence in the river would pass unobserved, shrouded from view as he deemed himself to be by the jutting point of rocks. The instant, however, the wily Ahmed recognised that the cutter's nose was turned in his direction, he calmly and quietly prepared for action, and as a precaution sent Jack Villiers ashore in charge of three fully-armed men, on whose faith and courage he knew he could implicitly rely. In dogged, obstinate bravery this slaver-captain was certainly not deficient. He was prepared to fight to the last drop of his blood in defence of his vessel and human cargo. With regard to his prisoner, Jack Villiers, the chief was very much averse to treating with naval officers for his release, much preferring that negotiations for that purpose should, if possible, be carried on with a Consular Agent at some port. Herein he showed his wisdom--the wisdom of the serpent. CHAPTER V. Thring could scarcely believe his eyes when they fell upon his chum Jack being hurried away up the cliffs by three swarthy, fleet-footed Arabs. That piercing cry of "Help! help!" had gone to his heart, for he did not fail to instantly recognise the well-loved tones of that friend whom he had mourned as dead. If it had not been for the fact that the Arabs, in the hurry and confusion, had omitted to gag their captive, even Thring might have been deceived, for his friend was still arrayed in his Oriental costume. "Bless my heart if you ain't right, and that's Mr. Villiers hisself!" sang out Lobb, on hearing the young middy's exclamation. "How in the name of wonder did----" And, without finishing his sentence, the coxswain snatched up an Arab musket which he knew to be loaded. "The swabs have knocked him over, and may be a-murderin' of 'im!" he cried, in horrified tones. But Thring made a dash at the long barrel. "Don't fire at them, Lobb; you might hit poor Jack." The seaman lowered the gun. "I could pick off any one of the warmints if I had a mind to," he said; "leastways, if this was a Martini-Henry I had in my fist; but by ill fortin it ain't." Thring stamped on the deck in despair, as he watched with agonised glances his helpless chum being borne away into the interior, accompanied by about a score of escaped slaves.