But a whole week went on, and though no Frenchman appeared on the scene, Jack and his fleet had encountered a gale of wind that had driven them considerably out of their course; and when one morning, about eight bells, a cry of “Land” was raised, he knew he must be in the neighbourhood of the Azores or Western Islands.
He was not altogether sorry for this; it would give him a chance of taking in fresh water and of adding to the store of fresh provisions now almost exhausted. For ships in those days were vilely found, and the men called contractors were held in general detestation by every ship in the service.
“Sailing across the moon’s bright wake was a French man-o’-war.”
Page [93].
The merchantmen under Jack numbered fourteen in all, and were of different classes—brigs, barques, and full-rigged ships; but long before sundown they were all securely anchored in front of San Miguel, and Captain Mackenzie, in full uniform, accompanied by Commander Fairlie, had gone on shore to pay his respects to the Portuguese governor.
San Miguel was not so densely populated as it is now, but very quaint as to its town, and very romantic and beautiful as to its scenery all around. The governor dwelt in a villa on a garden-terraced hill in the outskirts. He was very pleased to see the officers, but deferred business till next day.
It was, however, while smoking in the veranda after dinner, and gazing dreamily away across the moonlit ocean, that Jack suddenly sprang up, and, clutching Tom’s arm, pointed seawards.
Slowly sailing across the moon’s bright wake was a French man-o’-war.