A Clever Stratagem
Six days out from the Capes of Delaware Bay, and the Ranger was cruising between Halifax and Boston, about one hundred leagues east of Cape Sable. If there be truth in the maxim that a ship is never fit for action until she has been a week at sea, the Ranger might be considered as ready for any emergency now. The crew had thoroughly learned their stations; they and the officers had become acquainted with each other; the possibilities of the ship in different weather, and on various points of sailing, had been ascertained. The drill at quarters twice daily, and the regular target practice with great guns, and the exercises with small arms, had materially developed the offensive and defensive possibilities of the ship.
The already warm friendship between Seymour and Talbot, now thrown into close association by the necessary confinement of a small ship, had grown into an intimacy, and they held many discussions concerning their absent friends in the long hours of the night watches. Talbot had learned through common rumor before they sailed, that Colonel Wilton would probably be sent to England with Lord Dunmore, whose retirement, under the vigorous policy pursued by the Virginians under the leadership of Patrick Henry, who had been elected governor, was inevitable; and he did not doubt but that Katharine would accompany her father. He had never told Seymour of the plans which had involved the destinies of Katharine and himself, and something had restrained him from mentioning either his hopes or his affection for her, though time and absence had but intensified his passion, until it was the consuming idea of his soul.
This reserve was matched by a similar reticence on the part of Seymour, who had said nothing of the note he had received, and had not communicated the news of his own successful suit to his unsuspecting rival. Seymour had a much clearer apprehension of the situation than Talbot, and, intrenched in Katharine's confession, could endure it without disquiet, magnanimously saying nothing which could disturb his less favored rival. The situation, however, was clearly an impossible one, and that there would be a sudden break in the friendship, when Talbot found out the true state of affairs, he did not doubt. This was a grief to him, for he really liked the young man, and would gladly have spared his friend any pain, if it were possible; however, since there was only one Kate in the world, and she was his, he saw no way out of the difficulty, and could only allow Talbot to drift along blindly in his fool's paradise, until his eyes were opened. Both the young men were favorites with Captain Jones, and he treated them in a very different manner from that he usually assumed to his subordinates, for Jones was a man to be respected and feared rather than loved.
Late in the afternoon, the ship being under all plain sail, on the port tack, heading due west, the voice of the lookout on the mainroyal-yard floated down to the deck in that hail which is always thrilling at sea, and was doubly so in this instance,—
"Sail ho!"
Motioning to the officer of the deck, Jones himself replied in his powerful voice,—
"Where away?"
"Broad off the lee-beam, sir."
"Can you make her out?"