Before any reply could be heard one of the captains of a forward gun pulled his trigger line, and immediately the others discharged their guns. A howl of execration broke from the enemy, upon which the Stingers let drive another volley.
"Cease firing! let us wait for reply," roared the commander.
Now loud upon the breeze came the words, "Dod rot ye! What do you mean by firing into us in that fashion?"
"Are you an enemy?" blurted Puffeigh through his speaking-trumpet.
"If I had a few barkers I'd darn soon show you who I was, you cussed fool. I'm Amos Pelton, of the Minnehaha, of Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts, United States of America."
"This is Her Britannic Majesty's ship Stinger. Are you damaged?"
At this moment the man at the wheel put his helm aport, and the ships collided. After striking the whaler just abaft the foremast, the Stinger swung round, and dropped alongside, causing the boats of both vessels to double up like hat-boxes,—yards locked, iron gear got entangled, rigging carried away, and general confusion prevailed, and for a short time the vessels hugged, ground, and rasped each other, like savage leviathans. Upon order being restored, the crews vied with each other in their efforts to free their respective ships; and when at last their exertions were successful, each quickly cleared away the wreck, and proceeded to ascertain the amount of damage it had sustained, and to repair the same to the best of their ability.
When morning broke the Stinger discovered the American vessel under easy sail upon her port bow; and after breakfast the captain was seen to leave his ship in his gig. Puffeigh received him upon his quarter-deck, and politely inquired what he wanted?
"Wall, capt'n, I guess John Bull 'ull have to pay for last night's amusement. Eleven shot holes in my ship's side, a fore-topmast carried away, and a vallyble dog killed, air to be paid for, capt'n."
"Why did you not answer my hail, sir? I hailed your ship three times."