They exerted themselves to the utmost, while, in pure recklessness, Peterson burst into a song used by whalemen when towing a whale.
Despite their efforts, the foremost boat gained the quarter, and flung a grappling; it caught. Just then a light air filled the loftier sails, although there was not a breath of wind on deck. Slight as it was, it was sufficient to shoot the swift craft ahead with accelerated speed, leaving one boat far astern, towing and well nigh upsetting the other. A sharp axe in the hand of Peterson descended upon the grappling warp, and the boat was left astern, as the increasing breeze filled, partially, the larger sails of the “Arthur.”
A broadside burst from the side of the frigate; but the shot all fell far short, covering the water with foam.
The breeze now sensibly increased. The direction in which it sprung up brought the frigate dead to windward.
“Dis be a bully grappling,” said Peterson, taking up the now harmless implement. “Me take him home to Massa Rhines, to moor his boat with.”
The light breeze, which propelled the swift brigantine with considerable velocity, was scarcely felt by the frigate; but as it gradually freshened she began to move through the water, and picking up her boats, crowded all sail in pursuit. But she had, during the light wind, lost much precious time, profiting by which the brigantine had increased the distance between them.
But now the situation of things was entirely reversed. The frigate, though no match for the swift, sharp-built American, close-hauled on a wind; yet dead before it, her great bulk and vast cloud of sail rendered her superior; besides, as she could carry sail much longer, and the wind was every moment increasing, she would, after a while, drown the smaller vessel out. She was too near, at the outset, for the brigantine to haul on the wind, and endeavor to cross her bows, as already the shots from her guns began to fall uncomfortably near. The wind was blowing in squalls; when the squall struck, the frigate would gain, and almost heave her shot on board; when the wind slacked, the brigantine would gain. Directly ahead lay a cluster of islands, reefs, and outlying rocks; one island was called Pomegues, the other Rataneau. These islands are now connected by a breakwater; then they were not. The brow of the young captain now wore an expression of great anxiety; he called the mate and Peterson to his councils.
“We are doing all we can,” said the captain to his subordinates, “and as the wind increases we bury and she gains; her shot will soon be coming aboard.”
“I see no way,” replied the mate, “but to haul our sheets aft, and endeavor to cross her bows. If we could once get him on a wind, we could shake him off.”
“Then,” replied the captain, “she would run square down on us; it is useless to attempt that. What is your advice, pilot?” addressing himself to the black, who was too modest to obtrude his opinion upon his superiors.