Matters went exactly as Mark desired, the stranger schooner gliding nearer and nearer, while the midshipman’s heart beat faster, and he trembled lest a glimpse should be caught of the armed boat hanging from the davits, with her keel just dipping into the water from time to time.
But by clever steering it was kept out of sight, and when the right moment came a turn or two of the wheel sent the schooner a little way ahead, and then another turn, and she swept round a little, her sails shivered, and she lost way, while the stranger hailed them as she came closer, and was thrown up head to wind.
By this time the two schooners were not above fifty yards apart, and a hail came in decidedly American tones,—
“I’ll send a boat aboard.”
There was a little movement, and Mark lay waiting for his time, for this action on the part of the stranger was thoroughly playing into his hands.
The American’s boat was lowered down on the side farthest from them, with the skipper sitting aft with four men to row; and as her head appeared round the stern, Mark dropped over into his own boat. The falls were cast off as she dropped into the water, and bidding the men give way, she shot off round the schooner’s bows, the Panama hat gave place to the naval cap, the jacket was hurried on, and away they went for the stranger, whose crew on board stared in astonishment over the bulwarks at the man-of-war’s men, while a horrible thought struck the young officer.
He was going to seize the stranger vessel, but he had left his own almost unprotected, and the Yankee skipper was being rowed to her.
“I’m playing dog and the shadow, after all, Tom,” he whispered, excitedly.
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Suppose the Yankee seizes our prize while we try to take his schooner.”