“I trust it may be so; and I have promised a silver candlestick to St. Antonio that it may prove no worse: we then may have some chance of seeing our homes again; but I fear not.”
“What, then, do you imagine her to be, Antonio?”
“The pirate which we have heard so much of.”
“Jesu protect us! we must then sell our lives as dearly as we can.”
“So I intend to do, my captain,” replied Antonio, shifting the helm a spoke.
The day broke, and showed the schooner continuing her pursuit at the same distance astern, without any apparent movement on board. It was not until the sun was some degrees above the horizon that the smoke was again seen to envelop her bows, and the shot crashed through the timbers of the Portuguese ship. The reason for this delay was, that the pirate waited till the sun was up to ascertain if there were any other vessels to be seen, previous to his pouncing on his quarry. The Portuguese captain went aft and hoisted his ensign, but no flag was shown by the schooner. Again whistled the ball, and again did it tear up the decks of the unfortunate ship: many of those who had re-ascended to ascertain what was going on, now hastily sought their former retreat.
“Mind the helm, Antonio,” said the Portuguese captain; “I must go down and consult with the governor.”
“Never fear, my captain; as long as these limbs hold together, I will do my duty,” replied the old man, exhausted as he was by long watching and fatigue.
The captain descended to the orlop-deck, where he found the major part of the crew and passengers assembled.
“My lords,” said he, addressing the governor and the bishop, “the schooner has not shown any colours, although our own are hoisted. I am come down to know your pleasure. Defence we can make none; and I fear that we are at the mercy of a pirate.”