"What is that, Mr Kennedy?"
said the captain to the old gunner.--"The commodore has made the night
signal for the sternmost ships to make more sail and close, sir." We
repeated the signal--and stood on hailing the dullest of the merchantmen in
our neighbourhood to make more sail, and firing a musket--shot now and then
over the more distant of them. By and by we saw a large West Indiaman
suddenly haul her wind, and stand across our bows.
"Forward there!" sung out Mr Splinter, "stand by to fire a shot at that
fellow from the boat gun if he does not bear up. What can he be after?
Sergeant Armstrong,"--to a marine, who was standing close by him in the
waist--"get a musket, and fire over him!"
It was done, and the ship immediately bore up on her course again; we now
ranged alongside of him on his larboard quarter.
"Ho, the ship, ahoy!"--"Hillo!" was the reply.--"Make more sail, sir, and
run into the body of the fleet, or I shall fire into you; why don't you,
sir, keep in the wake of the commodore?" No answer. "What meant you by
hauling your wind, just now, sir?"
"Yesh, Yesh," at length responded a voice from the merchantinan.
"Something wrong here," said Mr Splinter. "Back your maintopsail, sir, and
hoist a light at the peak; I shall send a boat on board of you.
Boatswain's mate, pipe away the crew of the jolly boat." We also hove to,
and were in the act of lowering down the boat, when the officer rattled
out.
Pages:
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78