"
When the gunner made the same remark it startled the poor fellow he tried
to take it as a joke, but could not. "There may be a laced hammock with a
shot in it, for some of us ere morning."
At this moment, to my dismay, the object we were chasing shortened,
gradually fell abeam of us, and finally disappeared. "The Flying
Dutchman."
"I can't see her at all now."
"She will be a fore--and--aft--rigged vessel that has tacked, sir," said
the gunner. And sure enough, after a few seconds, I saw the white object
lengthen, and draw out again abaft our beam.
"The chase has tacked sir," I sung out; "put the helm down, or she will,
go to windward of us."
We tacked also, and time it was we did so, for the rising moon now showed
us a large schooner under a crowd of sail. We edged down on her, when
finding her manoeuvre detected, she brailed up her flat sails, and bore up
before the wind. This was our best point of sailing, and we cracked on,
the captain rubbing his hands--"It's my turn to be the big un this time."
Although blowing a strong north--easter, it was now clear moonlight and we
hammered away from bow guns, but whenever a shot told amongst the rigging,
the injury was repaired as if by magic. It was evident we had repeatedly
hulled her, from the glimmering white streaks along her counter and, across
her stern, occasioned by the splintering of the timber, but it seemed to
produce no effect.
At length we drew well up on her quarter.
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