We could see no lights in our track at all during the night, whereby we hoped that our enemy—as I may call her—seeing not ours, had fallen away in the darkness; but when day broke we perceived her still following us, and no further away than ever, so that we knew she had been guided by our lamps, and had lit none of her own. In short, not to weary the reader, as she had followed us that night and the day before, so she clung to our heels for four days and nights after. And now being off Portugal, Sir Bartlemy might have run into port; but this he would not do; for, firstly, the breeze continued all this time fairly prosperous; and, secondly, his bold and stubborn nature would not permit him to swerve from his course, or show fear of any one.
By this time our company began to murmur because they got no proper rest through constant watching, and because (though they feared no mortal enemy) they began to look upon this pursuing ship as a thing without substance—an unearthly sign of impending destruction, a device of the fiend—I know not what, for seamen are ever prodigiously superstitious and easily terrified by that which passes their comprehension; and it strengthened their dread that this ship was painted black from stem to stern. Indeed, to a mind reasonably free from superstition, there was something dreadful and terrific in this great black ship following us with so great perseverance, which put me in mind of some carrion bird with steadfast patience hovering slowly about wanderers beleaguered in a desert, with some forecast that in the end one must fall to become its easy prey.
These six nights did I get no rest; but only a little dog sleep in the day when my body yielded to the fatigue of watching, my mind being quite disordered with dreadful apprehensions; for well I knew that if by storm we got separated in the day, or by accident of fog or such like lost each other in the night, then would our enemy fall upon us one after the other, and vanish with us; which, though we fought like lions, might well arrive, seeing she was so much greater than either of us, and manned with a greater company, as I could descry through a perspective. My own life I valued not; my fear was all lest Lady Biddy should fall a prey into the wicked hands of that bloody, subtle Rodrigues. What could that dear, sweet creature do to resist? What fate would be hers, being at his mercy? These questions did provoke fearful answers in my anxious imagination, to my inexpressible torment.
At length, on the seventh day, we being then, as Captain Wilkins told me, off the coast of Morocco, and the wind falling to a calm, I took a boat and rowed to my uncle's ship. And when I got aboard I found the company there in not much better case than ours on the Sea Lion, for every man had a sullen and unhappy look on his face, and from time to time cast his eye towards the black ship that lay behind us, for all my uncle pacing the deck did rate them most soundly for not going quicker about the business he set them; swearing at them like a heathen Jew, so that one, not knowing his kind and generous heart, had thought him a very tyrant.
My first thought was of Lady Biddy, and casting my eye up and down the deck to see if her fair face and dainty figure were there, my limbs shook and my teeth chattered together with the intensity of my desire. But she was nowhere visible.
"Well, Benet, what the plague has brought you from your ship?" asks my uncle roughly, as he comes to my side. "What do you fear, that you are spying up and down, your cheeks pale, and your lips on a quiver?"
"Lady Biddy," says I, with a thickness in my voice, "is she well?"
"Ay, and if all on this ship were as stout of heart I should have more reason to be grateful," says he.
"Thank God she is well. May no mischance befall her!" says I in a low tone.
"And what mischance may befall her if we act like men in her defense?"