Simpson needed no second bidding. He thought as I did on the matter, and the result proved us correct, for while there was no perceptible diminution in the schooner’s speed due to the loss of her square canvas, she looked higher and went along much more easily and comfortably than she had done before, “Now for a look at the commodore,” said I, when we had snugged down the little vessel, and I took the telescope from the beckets in which it hung in the companion way.
Yes, there she was, dead to windward of us, driving along, as I could just make out, under her main topgallant-sail; but all was perfectly dark on board her, and there was no sign of the slaver that I could see. But I presumed that they had her in sight from the brig, or we should have heard something from the latter. For it was at this time very dark, and blowing strong, and the conditions generally were such that the matter of as little as even two or three miles might make all the difference between seeing and not seeing the stranger.
Eight bells came, the watch was called. Jones, the boatswain, relieved Simpson, and the latter, bidding me good-night, went below. I explained to Jones our reasons for taking the square canvas off the ship, and he was graciously pleased to express his approval.
“Yes, sir,” he said, “I believe you’ve done the right thing. Even now the little hooker have got all that she can comfortably carry, and if you was to pile more on to her you’d do no good, but only strain her all to pieces, and open her seams. The fact is, Mr Grenvile, that these here shallow, beamy craft ain’t intended to sail on their sides; bury ’em below their sheer-strake and they begins to drag and to sag at once. We’re doin’ quite as well as can be reasonably expected in such a sea as this, as is proved by the way that we’re keepin’ pace with the commodore. I’ll just take his bearin’s, for the fun of the thing, and see how much he head-reaches on us durin’ the next hour.” Saying which he trotted aft to the binnacle and very carefully took the bearings of the brig, which we both made to be exactly east-south-east.
The hour sped, with no sight or sign of the chase to cheer us, and then Jones and I went to the binnacle to take the bearings of the Doña Inez once more. The boatswain was a long time getting the bearing to his satisfaction, for the little vessel was leaping and plunging most furiously, and the compass-card was none too steady in the bowl; but at length he stepped back from the binnacle with an air of triumph, exclaiming:
“There, Mr Grenvile, what d’ye make of that, sir?”
Whereupon I, in turn, stepped up to the binnacle, and with equal care took the bearing.
“I make it east and by south, half south,” said I.
“And east and by south, half south it is!” answered Jones exultantly. “Which means, sir, that we’ve head-reached on the brig to the extent of half a p’int within this last hour, and that, too, in a breeze and a sea so heavy that the brig ought to walk away from us hand over hand. Well, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself; but seein’ is believin’, I have heard say. And more than that,” he continued, taking up the glass and levelling it at the Doña Inez, “I’m blest if I don’t believe as we’re weatherin’ on her too. Take this glass, Mr Grenvile, and tell me whether you don’t think as we’ve drawed up a bit closer to the commodore since eight bells struck.”
To humour the fellow I took the telescope, as requested, and certainly when I got the brig focused in the lens her image appeared to be more distinct and also perceptibly larger than it had been when I last looked at her.