Will had been standing not far from the captain, and heard [pg 101]this conversation. His heart beat high at the thought of the possibility of a fight with these murderous pirates.
For three weeks they cruised off the coast of Cuba. They saw no sign whatever of the French fleet, but from time to time they heard from native craft of the pirates. The natives differed somewhat widely as to the head-quarters of these pests, but all agreed that it was on an island lying in the middle of dangerous shoals.
One day they saw smoke rising some fifteen miles away and at once shaped their course for it. When they approached it they found that it rose from a vessel enveloped in flames.
“She is a European ship,” the captain said as they neared her. “Send an officer in a boat to row round her and gather any particulars as to her fate. I see no boats near her, and I am afraid that it is the work of those pirates.”
All watched the boat with intent interest as she rowed round the ship.
“I have no doubt whatever that it is the work of pirates,” the officer said on his return. “Her bulwarks are burnt away, and I could make out several piles on deck which looked like dead men.”
“Send a man up to the mast-head, Farrance, and tell him to scan the horizon carefully for a sail. I should say this ship can’t have been burning above three hours at most.”
No sooner had the man reached the top of the mast than he called down “Sail ho!”
“Where away?” Mr. Farrance shouted.
“On the port bow, sir.”