All was now activity.
‘Where away?’ cried Capt. Boldheart, starting up.
‘On the larboard bow, sir,’ replied the fellow at the masthead, touching his hat. For such was the height of discipline on board of ‘The Beauty,’ that, even at that height, he was obliged to mind it, or be shot through the head.
‘This adventure belongs to me,’ said Boldheart. ‘Boy, my harpoon. Let no man follow;’ and leaping alone into his boat, the captain rowed with admirable dexterity in the direction of the monster.
All was now excitement.
‘He nears him!’ said an elderly seaman, following the captain through his spy-glass.
‘He strikes him!’ said another seaman, a mere stripling, but also with a spy-glass.
‘He tows him towards us!’ said another seaman, a man in the full vigour of life, but also with a spy-glass.
In fact, the captain was seen approaching, with the huge bulk following. We will not dwell on the deafening cries of ‘Boldheart! Boldheart!’ with which he was received, when, carelessly leaping on the quarter-deck, he presented his prize to his men. They afterwards made two thousand four hundred and seventeen pound ten and sixpence by it.
Ordering the sail to be braced up, the captain now stood W.N.W. ‘The Beauty’ flew rather than floated over the dark blue waters. Nothing particular occurred for a fortnight, except taking, with considerable slaughter, four Spanish galleons, and a snow from South America, all richly laden. Inaction began to tell upon the spirits of the men. Capt. Boldheart called all hands aft, and said, ‘My lads, I hear there are discontented ones among ye. Let any such stand forth.’