"All ready for'ard, sir."
"Let her have it!" cried the captain; and then, seeing that Marcy Gray was still holding fast to the halliards that kept the starry flag at the peak, he shouted: "Why don't you haul that thing down and run aloft the Stars and Bars? Are you asleep?"
"No, sir," replied the boy. "Waiting for orders, sir."
"Down with it then, and put our own flag up there," commanded the captain. "Fire, Tierney!"
The howitzer once more belched forth a cloud of flame and smoke, and Marcy stood on tiptoe and held his breath in suspense while he waited for the result. He felt the cold chills creep along his spine when, after an interval that seemed very short for the distance the shot had to travel, he saw it strike the water in line with the schooner and explode a second later almost at her side. There was no mistake about it this time. A fifteen-second fuse was long enough, and the next shot, with a single half-degree more of elevation, would surely strike her. Her skipper saw it, and rather than allow his vessel to be shot to pieces and his men killed before his eyes, he spilled his sails and gave up the contest.
"Come on deck, you lubbers below, and cheer our first prize," shouted the mate, who was almost beside himself with joy and excitement. "There she is, laying to and waiting for you to go and take possession," he went on, as the crew tumbled up the ladder. "Count your prize-money up on your fingers and then give a cheer."
This was an insulting way to treat men who had done all that brave men could do to elude their enemy, and surrendered at last because they had no means of defending themselves, and Marcy was glad to notice that Tierney saw it, and did not join in the cheers that followed. Perhaps the man had a better heart than Marcy had given him credit for.
"Where's that boat's crew?" inquired the captain, meaning the men who had been drilled in lowering the yawl and pulling off to imaginary prizes. "Here's the keys to the cabin, Marcy. Unlock the door and give every man who comes to you a saber, revolver, and a box of cartridges. And you," he added, turning to the first mate as Marcy took the keys and hastened below, "tumble ten men besides the boat's crew into the yawl, go off to the prize, and send the master and his papers on board of us. Put all the schooner's company, except the mates, in double irons, and stow them away somewhere under guard. Then keep your weather eye on me and follow in my wake when I fill away for Newbern. That's the way we'll manage things as often as we take a prize."
While these orders were being obeyed the Osprey was sailing steadily toward her prize; and by the time the men had been selected and the small arms distributed, she had come as close to her as Captain Beardsley thought it safe to venture. Having performed his duty, Marcy returned to the deck just in time to see the prize crew climbing upon her deck. A quarter of an hour later the boat came back, bringing a strange man who certainly took matters very coolly, seeing that he had lost his vessel and a valuable cargo.
"Captain," said he, as he clambered over the Osprey's rail, "I don't understand the situation at all, for all your mate would say to me was that my ship was a prize to the Confederate privateer Osprey."