To have heard Judith talk then, you would have imagined her to be Boadicea, Joan of Arc and Moll Pitcher rolled into one.
So passed the night in the cabin.
Just before the dawn of day, Lieutenant Ethel came below to the captain and reported the chase within range of their lee-bow gun.
“Fire a blank cartridge into her,” said the captain, immediately turning out.
Britomarte and Judith overheard every word of this short interview; and Judith clapped her hands for joy, exclaiming:
“Now they’re going to begin. Sure meself is happy as Paddy at Dunnybrook Fair. And, oh! that I was up on deck wid the seamen! Wouldn’t I——”
“Boom-m-me!” thundered the cannon over the sea, with a report that shook the ship.
With a violent bound, Judith leaped up, clapped her hands to her ears, and, shaking and screaming with the extremity of terror, hid her head in Britomarte’s lap.
“Why, what’s the matter, Judith?” inquired Miss Conyers, as the sound rolled away. “Is this your heroism?”
“S’int Pater and all the Holy Apostles! Mother Mary and all the blissid virgins!” gasped the panic-stricken girl.