“Go on, Bob.”
“Well, on we went after my gentleman, getting close enough to make his sails ragged, and then being dodged about in every direction as he went through all sorts of manoeuvres to escape. Now we were hove to, to pick up some of his cargo, now in full chase again, till I got sick of it by daylight, and every one else too, and the men so savage that they would have liked to pour in a broadside if it hadn’t been for the poor fellows under hatches. At last it was morning, and the sun up, with the schooner a good mile away, and then came the worst of it.”
“The worst of it?”
“Ay, ay, sir! as we say at sea. No sooner was the sun well up than the sails began to shiver.
“‘Wind’s failing, sir,’ says old Staples.
“‘Bah! nonsense!’ says the skipper, and there came a hot puff and filled the sails again, making us careen over. ‘There, Mr Staples,’ says the skipper, ‘what do you think of that?’
“‘Last puff, sir, for the day,’ says Staples.
“‘Nonsense we shall have her now,’ says the skipper; and then he crossed just in front of me and gave a big stamp, for the sails flopped down all at once, and there we were gliding slowly on for a bit, and then settling on an even keel, while a mile away there was the schooner with a light breeze, going along as easily as could be, and if the Yankee captain didn’t have the cheek directly after to load a little swivel gun he had on board, and fire at us over the stern, as if he were laughing at us.
“Then I saw Maitland give old Staples such a savage look, and go down into his cabin.”
“Well?” said Mark.