The Black Adder was completely taken by surprise, and lost some valuable minutes before she followed suit and put her helm down.
Compared with the whaleboat, the schooner was a long time coming round.
Anxiously the boat's crew watched her as she rounded to with flapping head-sails, bowing her glistening black hull to the long swell with slow, dignified movements; then, as she felt the wind on the other tack, she lay over and came smoking after them, a frothing streak of white rolling away from her sharp stem.
She made a perfect picture for an artist as she cut through the gleaming path of the moon, carved out in a hard, clean outline of jet; and, forgetting her peril, Loyola could not help exclaiming upon the beauty of the scene.
"Just look at her! What other work of man can approach a sailing-ship for perfect grace and——"
"Ready about!" broke in Jack, with a queer smile and a muttered, "Sorry to interrupt you, Lolie," and round came the whaleboat again.
This time the schooner was prepared, and as she swung in stays she sent a ball from her twelve-pounder skipping after the chase.
The castaways saw the shot splash, and then with a whirr it ricochetted over their heads and plunged into the sea beyond them.
"Good shootin', and that ain't no josh!" commented Bill Benson.
"You're shore right, son," agreed Broncho. "That shot comes plenty close. This here Dago Charlie slings his scrap-iron too free an' easy: an' though we disdains these fam'liarities o' his, I shore regrets we-alls can't corral his game none. His scatterin' loose this-away is a'most liable to make a Montana sheriff apprehensife an' gun-shy."