“Yes, sah, dat quite true, Mistah Grenvile,” replied our sable attendant. “Well, sah, I find dem all in de steward’s pantry—where else? Ah, gentleum, dis is wery different from de appearance ob de table in de midshipmen’s berth aboard de Shark, eh? No tin cups and plates here, sah; no rusty old bread barge; no battered old coffeepot; no not’ing ob dat sort. And I t’ink, gentleum, dat if you is pleased wid de table ’pointments dat you will be equally so wid de grub dat I shall hab de honour to place before you. Dis luncheon is not’ing much, just a fresh-cut ham”—lifting a dish-cover—“and a cold boiled tongue”—lifting another. “But dere is fine white biscuit, such as you nebber see aboard de Shark, and on dat sideboard I hab a prime cheese—”
“Yes, everything is most excellent, San Domingo,” said I, again interrupting the fellow. “Now, Keene, what do you say? Will you have some ham, or some tongue, or a little of both?”
“Thanks!” answered Jack. “I will take a great deal of both if you don’t mind, for somehow I’ve managed to find an enormous appetite.”
Having finished our meal, we went on deck again. We found that during our absence below the breeze had moderated very considerably, to such an extent, indeed, that Simpson had just sent a hand aloft to loose the royal and main-topmast staysail, and another to cast loose the gaff-topsail. He was moved thereto, no doubt, by the fact that the brig, which had fallen somewhat astern of us, was also making sail. We had acquired the habit of regarding the Shark as a decidedly fast ship, but the manner in which the Doña Inez and our own little schooner slid through the water was a revelation to us all, especially when the wind fell quite light, as it did toward the close of the afternoon. Then, indeed, when our speed had dwindled to about four knots, and our canvas collapsed at every roll of the vessel for lack of wind to fill it, we were able to hold our own with the brig; while still later, when the wind had fallen so light that the horizon had become invisible and the oil-smooth surface of the ocean showed scarcely a wrinkle in its satin-smooth folds to indicate that there was still a faint movement of the atmosphere, we gradually drew ahead of our consort, at the rate of about half a knot per hour, and even contrived to retain command of our little barkie, and keep her head pointed the right way, when the brig had begun to box the compass.
It continued calm until shortly after midnight that night, when a faint breathing came creeping up to us from the eastward, to which we spread our studding-sails, and, an hour later, we were bowling merrily along at a speed of nine knots. The wind not only held through the night, but freshened with the sunrise, and throughout that day and the succeeding night our speed never fell below eleven knots, while for an hour or so, when it breezed up especially strong, our log showed that we were doing close upon fourteen.
With the dawn of the third day after we had parted company with the Shark we found ourselves about two miles distant from our consort, both vessels steering to the north-westward, with the wind well over our starboard quarter, and our starboard studding-sails set. The wind was blowing a moderate breeze, there was a long but very regular sea running, and we were doing ten knots very comfortably, the little Francesca, sliding over the long liquid hills and down into the broad valleys as easily and buoyantly as a sea gull. We in the schooner were showing every rag we could spread, but the brig had her royals stowed, in order that she might not run away from us.
At seven o’clock San Domingo entered my cabin with a cup of chocolate, informed me as to the state of the weather, the whereabouts of the brig, and so on, and intimated that it was time for me to turn out if I wished to indulge in my usual luxury of a salt-water bath under the head-pump. I accordingly tumbled out, and, going on deck, made my way forward along the heaving planks into the eyes of the little vessel. I was just about to place myself under the clear sparkling stream of salt-water that gushed from the spout of the pump when the sound of a loud snap overhead caused me to look aloft, and I saw that the royal halyard had parted, and that the yard was sagging down with its own weight, and the sail bellying out with the pressure of the wind in it. Jones, the acting boatswain, who had charge of the deck, instantly observed the trifling mishap, and shouted an order for the sail to be temporarily clewed up, and for a hand to go aloft and bend the halyard afresh. Meanwhile I proceeded to take my bath, and was giving myself a vigorous towelling afterwards, when the man who had gone aloft hailed the deck with the cry of:
“Sail ho! about two points before the starboard beam.”
“What does she look like?” demanded the boatswain.
“She’s a tidy-sized brigantine or schooner, sir, for I can see the head of her topgallant-sail and gaff-topsail. She’s steerin’ pretty much the same way as ourselves, by the look of her.”