"I don't call that the same ship that fired on us a week ago," Weymouth remarked.
"Oh, no!" said Kit. "That ship, 'The Rosamond,' can't more than have reached the nearest of the Company's trading-posts by this time."
"She probably spoke this ship coming out, and told them to be on the lookout for us," said Raed.
"Old Red-face doubtless charged them to give us particular fits," Kit replied.
"And they've got us in a tight place, no mistake," Wade remarked gloomily. "We're rusticated up here among the icebergs; sequestered in a cool spot."
Bang!
"Gracious! I believe that one hit 'The Curlew'!" Donovan exclaimed. "The captain and old Trull—I believe it's Trull—ran aft, and are looking over the taffrail!"
Kit pulled out his glass and looked. I had not taken mine, nor had Wade. The schooner was now three or four miles down the straits, and the ship was a good way past us.
"No great harm done, I guess," Kit said at length. "The captain ran down into the cabin, but came up a few moments after; and they are standing about the deck as before."
"As long as they miss the standing rigging, and don't hit the sails, there's no danger," Raed observed.