“Right under the sun.”
“Mast-head there—do you make her out?”
“Yes, sir; I think she’s a schooner; but I can only see down to her mainyard.”
“That’s one of them, depend upon it,” said the captain.
“Up there, Mr Wilson, and see what you make of her. Who is the man who reported it?”
“Tom Beazeley, sir.”
“Confound that fellow, he makes all my ship’s company jump overboard, and now I must give him five guineas. What do you make of her, Mr Wilson?”
“A low schooner, sir, very rakish indeed, black sides. I cannot make out her ports; but I should think she can show a very pretty set of teeth. She is becalmed as well as we.”
“Well, then, we must whistle for a breeze. In the meantime, Mr Knight, we will have the boats all ready.”
If you whistle long enough the wind is certain to come. In about an hour the breeze did come, and we took it down with us; but it was too dark to distinguish the schooner, which we had lost sight of as soon as the sun had set. About midnight the breeze failed us, and it was again calm. The captain and most of the officers were up all night, and the watch were employed preparing the boats for service. It was my morning watch, and at break of day I saw the schooner from the foresail-yard about four miles to the North West. I ran down on deck and reported her.