“Why should they think I want to run away,” Jim asked himself, “when I’ve had a hundred chances before to-day?”

Why it was they were more than usually careful it was hard to understand; but that such was the fact could not be overlooked.

It might be they were watching for the arrival of some one else, or, knowing that something important was on hand for that night, they were on the alert.

Poor Sam was in a state of great agitation, and made an awkward attempt to assist his young friend.

He offered to act as watch through the night, but the offer was declined.

They intended to keep the decks themselves.

“Dar’s mischief a-brewin’,” he whispered, “and yous had better git out ob dis unarthly place jist as quick as de good Lord will let you.”

Which was precisely what Jim meant to do, as soon as Providence would open the way.

As the only chance was by a bold stroke, and as there was no telling the precise moment when the danger would burst upon him, Jim Travers did not wait long.

Creeping softly up the short stairs, Jim raised his head barely enough to see where the crew were.

The two sailors were standing aft, talking together in low tones.  Probably they were discussing at that very moment the best plan of disposing of the boy, who had become a dangerous encumbrance to them and their employer.

It was more than likely that Hornblower had failed in his attempt to secure a ransom for the child, who was not the one for whom the other parties were negotiating.

The age of the captive was such that his liberty would prove fatal to his abductors.

Sam, the burly negro, was leaning against the mainmast, probably torturing his thick skull as to the best means of helping his young friend, whom he loved so well.

Jim saw enough, and, creeping out of the cabin, he crawled down over the rudder, upon which he rested a few seconds, while he made ready for his venture.  He could see the dark bank, and he wished that the moon would hide itself behind a thick cloud, the better to give him a chance.  But the sky was clear, and it might be fatal to wait any longer.

With a muttered prayer to Heaven not to desert him in his peril, he let himself down in the river, and struck out for the shore.  He proceeded with all the care and stillness of which he was capable; but he had taken no more than half a dozen strokes, when he was seen by both the sailors.

“Hello! what’s that?” asked Bob, running to the stern of the vessel, and peering over in the gloom.

“I guess it am a whale,” suggested Sam, anxious to befriend the lad.

“A whale!” repeated the man with an oath, “it’s that kid.  Hello, there!  Stop, or I’ll shoot you!”

And he pointed his revolver at the head of Jim, who, instead of heeding the command, sank beneath the surface, swimming as far as he could before coming up.  When he reappeared he was a dozen yards from the schooner.