Captain Walker came to the rail with the speaking-trumpet in his hand.
“One killed and fifteen wounded,” he answered. “Now sail after that Spanish villain and take her, in revenge for all the damage that she has done me. She’s a treasure ship.”
“All right,” Captain Dottin called back, and he kept on after the Glorioso, which was now rapidly drawing away.
By the bright moonlight it could be seen that the Duke and the Prince George were also approaching. And, when they came close enough to the maimed and battered King George, her captain called to them, “to keep on after the Spaniard, and catch the rascal.” They continued on their way, and, at daybreak the three vessels could be seen, through the glass, as they closed in upon the Spanish game-cock from three sides. “She’ll be ours before nightfall,” said Captain Walker, chuckling.
The headmost ship, apparently the Duke under Captain Dottin, could now be seen to hotly engage the Glorioso, which greatly displeased the captain of the dismantled King George.
“Dottin will fire away all of his cartridges,” said he, turning to a few of his officers, who clustered around him. “He will shoot them all off at too great a distance, and will afterwards be obliged to load with loose powder, by which some fatal accident is sure to occur. He’s a brave fellow, but a rash one!”
He had scarcely spoken, when a broadside rang out. Simultaneously, with the discharge of the guns, a pillar of smoke and flame shot high into the air.
“Good Heavens, the Duke has blown up!” cried Captain Walker. “Dottin and his brave followers have found a watery grave!”
“It is merely the smoke of a broadside,” one of the officers interrupted.
“No! No!” answered Walker, dejectedly. “It’s the last that will ever be seen of noble Dottin and his men!”