“Well, then, let’s tell the cutter captain how to get through the narrows and cut the schooner off.”
“I couldn’t. I should send him on the rocks. Could you?”
“Oh, I could,” said Vince. “Here he comes. You’ll hail the boat as soon as you’re near enough, sir?”
“Eh?—the boat to set you ashore? I’d almost forgotten. Well, I suppose I must. Mr Johnson! Bah, I forgot: he’s prize-master aboard the lugger. By the way, you think there’s no fear of that craft sinking, my lad?”
“I feel sure, sir. The powder all exploded upward.”
“Good. Here, Mr Roberts, hoist a flag for a pilot: that may bring yon fellow.”
The little flag was hoisted; old Joe took no heed, however, but went on in his boat, and the lieutenant grew impatient.
“Do you think that man understands the signal?”
“I’m sure of it, sir, for he’s the best pilot we have, and knows every rock.”
“Then it’s obstinacy. By George, I’ll sink the scoundrel if he doesn’t heave to;” and, giving the order, a shot was sent skipping along just in front of old Daygo’s boat, when the sail was lowered directly, hoisted again, and the boat’s head turned to run towards the cutter.