“Get the arms and ammunition under cover, and then below with you all,” shouted Amyas from the helm.
“And heat the pokers in the galley fire,” said Yeo, “to be ready if the rain puts our linstocks out. I hope you'll let me stay on deck, sir, in case—”
“I must have some one, and who better than you? Can you see the chase?”
No; she was wrapped in the gray whirlwind. She might be within half a mile of them, for aught they could have seen of her.
And now Amyas and his old liegeman were alone. Neither spoke; each knew the other's thoughts, and knew that they were his own. The squall blew fiercer and fiercer, the rain poured heavier and heavier. Where was the Spaniard?
“If he has laid-to, we may overshoot him, sir!”
“If he has tried to lay-to, he will not have a sail left in the bolt-ropes, or perhaps a mast on deck. I know the stiff-neckedness of those Spanish tubs. Hurrah! there he is, right on our larboard bow!”
There she was indeed, two musket-shots' off, staggering away with canvas split and flying.
“He has been trying to hull, sir, and caught a buffet,” said Yeo, rubbing his hands. “What shall we do now?”
“Range alongside, if it blow live imps and witches, and try our luck once more. Pah! how this lightning dazzles!”