After customary formalities, Lieutenant Nelson of the Roebuck stated his business:
“Captain Sutherland, we are blockading a Yankee privateer inside the inlet; she had captured the General Monk; we have chased her into this harbor.
“If you will attack her, we will send you a full complement of men. We will send the boats and you can take her by boarding.
“She can not manœuvre inside the harbor, and she is crippled. Her forward battery is gone, and she is short of crew.”
“It’s well, Lieutenant Nelson, I shall obey Captain Atherton’s orders,” replied Captain Sutherland, and then he remarked quizzically: “Shall we appease the sea-nymphs, Lieutenant?”
“Certainly, certainly,” returned Nelson, when he observed Captain Sutherland go to the locker and take out a decanter of Madeira and two long glasses.
“Got your eye?” proposed Sutherland, as the two raised their glasses, and took a long pull at the “Milk of Venus” for the sake of good comradeship.
During the day not a word could Barclugh ask about the business of the two ships, for his security depended upon his own counsel being kept; but at daylight the next morning, there was no more question in his mind.
Lying at anchor behind the island was a crippled brig with main-topmast gone. The frigate was lying a mile on the weather bow, and all was activity on her decks. Three boats’ crews were boarding the small boats; he saw them strike out for the Albatross. The wind had now settled to a steady breeze from the south.
Lieutenant Nelson was in command of the boats’ crews from the frigate, and as they came alongside, sixty brawny men, armed to the teeth, mounted the deck of the sloop. With the boats in tow, the Albatross now made over the bar toward the Holker.