The cutter had not been left a mile astern before the breeze freshened, and the fog began rapidly to disperse; and Phillips, who continued at the conn, perceived, through the haze, a large vessel bearing down towards them.
“High time that we were off; indeed, captain; for there’s a cruiser, if I mistake not. A gun here is the same to the cruiser, as a splash in the water is to the ground sharks at Antigua; up they all come to see what’s to be had. We shall have a dozen of them above the horizon before two hours are above our heads.”
McElvina, who had his glass fixed upon the vessel, soon made her out to be a frigate, coming down under a press of sail, attracted, as Phillips had remarked, by the reports of the guns. What made the affair more serious was, that she was evidently bringing down a strong breeze, which the lugger, although steering large, had not yet obtained. Moreover, the fog had dispersed in all directions, and the frigate neared them fast.
“Blast the cutter!” said the first-mate: “we shall pay dearly for our ‘lark’.”
“This is confoundedly unlucky,” replied McElvina; “she brings the wind down with her, and won’t part with a breath of it. However ‘faint heart never won fair lady.’ Keep her away two points more. Clap everything on her. We’ll weather her yet.”
The breeze that ran along the water in advance of the frigate now began to be felt by the lugger, who again dashed the foaming water from her bows, as she darted through the wave; but it was a point of sailing at which a frigate has always an advantage over a small vessel; and McElvina having gradually edged away, so as to bring the three masts of his pursuer apparently into one, perceived that the frigate was rapidly closing with him.
The crew of the lugger, who had been all merriment at the successful termination of the late combat (for not one man had been killed or severely wounded), now paced the deck, or looked over the bulwark with serious and foreboding aspects; the foreigners, particularly, began to curse their fate, and considered their voyage and anticipated profits at an end. McElvina, perceiving their discontent, ordered the men aft, and addressed them:—
“My lads, I have often been in a worse scrape, and have weathered it; nor do I know but what we may yet manage to get out of this, if you will pay strict attention to my orders, and behave in that cool and brave manner which I have reason to expect from you. Much, if not all, depends upon whether the captain of that frigate is a ‘new hand’ or not: if he is an old channel groper, we shall have some difficulty; but, however, we will try for it, and if we do not succeed, at least we shall have the satisfaction of knowing, that we did our best both for ourselves and our employers.”
McElvina then proceeded to explain to his crew the manoeuvre that he intended to practise, to obtain the weather-gage of the frigate, upon which their only chance of escape would depend, and the men returned to their stations, if not contented, at least with increased confidence in their captain, and strong hopes of success.
As the day closed, the frigate was within a mile of the lugger, and coming up with him hand over hand. The breeze was strong, and the water was no longer in ripples, but curled over in short waves to the influence of the blast. The frigate yawed a little—the smoke from her bow-chaser was followed by an instantaneous report, and the shot dashed into the water close under the stern of the lugger. “Sit down under the bulwarks; sit down, my lads, and keep all fast,” said McElvina. “He’ll soon be tired of that; he has lost more than a cable’s length already.” McElvina was correct in his supposition; the commander of the frigate perceived that he had lost too much ground by deviating from his course, and the evening was closing in. He fired no more. Both vessels continued their course—the smuggler particularly attentive in keeping the three masts of her pursuer in one, to prevent her from firing into her, or to oblige her to drop astern if she did.