There is no doubt the skipper of the Fortuna smelt a rat, but he determined to face every difficulty. The two Jews were nervous and excited. Indeed, they had already come to open rupture with Goddard.
"If, Captain G.," they told him, "you have fooled us, and we are foiled, we shall maroon you on the nearest uninhabited island, with a keg of rum and a small barrel of salt herrings. Won't we, Moses?"
The skipper took no further notice of the Breezy, but stepped into the boat he had lowered and, hoisting the red ensign astern, ordered his fellows to pull to the point within five hundred yards of Golden Inlet.
"Lieutenant Guilford," cried Captain Breezy, "be off now, and see that yonder fellow doesn't land with his flag. I think I know what he is up to, so bring them here, boat and all."
"Ay, ay, sir. Down oars lads. Cheerily does it, and this is race number two in the programme. The winner to receive a bottle of rum."
"Hooray!" Away they went.
But there were good British tars in the Fortuna's boat also.
"Up with her, lads; up with her with a will!" Goddard was heard shouting. "We'll beat the beggars yet."
Sturdy and strong as the man-o'-war's men were, they had twice as far to pull, and could never have done the distance, but away went a shot from the Breezy. It was splendidly aimed by Stormalong himself, and took the water close to the port bow of the Fortunes boat, treating all on board to a most disheartening shower-bath.
"Game's up!" cried Goddard. "In oars, boys. The next shot would sink us."