About the same moment that these wonderful phenomena were being presented to our eyes, the midshipman on watch on one of the ships—who, by the way, was half asleep—ran down below and reported to his commander that a steamer was going up harbour, and would run into the dockyard.
The commander said, “Get out of here, youngster. You’re mad or dreaming.”
The middy went on deck, but came diving below again immediately, taking two steps at a time.
“The Thunderbolt has slipped her moorings, and is driving out to sea.”
“Ay, lad,” said the commander, “that is more like it. The steamer you thought moving has been stationary.”
And now on board the hulk the real situation began to dawn upon our minds.
We were being run away with.
Then a great gun reverberated high over the howling wind, and gun after gun followed.
The good people of the town made quite sure that one of two things had happened: either a foreign enemy had landed, or the end of the world had come.
At the first gun Mattie, wideawake, jumped off the couch, and we at once explained to her the situation.