“Nevertheless,” said I, “one must acquire one’s experience in some way before one can possess it; and I suppose there is no way in which a young officer can learn so quickly as by being placed in a position of responsibility. After all, there is no danger in this forthcoming expedition, so far as I can see; it is but to follow and keep an eye upon a certain ship, and do what I can to promote her capture. But I will keep your warning in mind, never fear. And now I suppose I must say good-bye; for here comes Parkinson, the captain’s steward, doubtless to say that my instructions are ready.”
It was even as I had anticipated; Parkinson was the bearer of a message summoning me to the skipper’s cabin, where my written instructions, having first been read over to me, in order that I might be afforded an opportunity to seek explanation of any doubtful points, were placed in my hands, and I was dismissed; the skipper’s final order to me being to carry on and, if possible, overtake the Virginia, thereafter keeping her in sight at all costs until the remainder of my instructions had been carried out. Ten minutes later I was once more on the deck of the Dolphin, and giving orders to make sail, the signal to part company having been hoisted aboard the Eros the moment that my boat left her side.
Having braced up on the same course as that steered by the Virginia when last seen, and crowded upon the brigantine every square inch of canvas that her spars would bear, I sent a hand aloft to the royal yard to take a look round and see whether he could discover any sign of the chase; but, as I had more than suspected, she had completely vanished; and my first task was now to find her again. To do this, two things were necessary; the first being that we should follow precisely the same course that she had done; and the second, that we should sail fast enough to overtake her. I therefore ordered the boatswain at once to get up preventer backstays, fore and aft, to enable our spars to carry a heavy press of sail; and then went to my cabin, where, with a chart of the Atlantic spread open before us upon the cabin table, Jack Keene and I discussed the knotty question of the course that should be steered to enable us once more to bring the Virginia within the range of our own horizon.
The point that we had to consider was whether our Yankee friend would or would not anticipate pursuit. If he did, he would probably resort to some expedient to dodge us; but if he did not there was little doubt that he would make the best of his way to his port of destination, which, if he spoke the truth, was the Congo. Now, we were well within the limits of the north-east trade-winds, the wind at the moment blowing, as nearly as might be, due north-east, and piping up strong enough to make us think twice before setting our topgallantsail; it was therefore perfectly ideal weather for so powerful a craft as the Virginia, which might dare not only to show all three of her topgallantsails but also, perhaps, her main-royal. We therefore ultimately came to the conclusion that, the weather being what it was, our friend the Yankee would shape a straight course for Cape Palmas, with the intention of then availing himself of the alternate sea and land-breezes to slip along the coast as far as the Congo—that being the plan very largely followed by slavers on the eastward passage—and that he would only be likely to deviate from that plan in the event of his actually discovering that he was pursued. Consequently we determined to do the same; and I issued the necessary orders to that effect. We were not very long in getting our preventers rigged, after which we not only set our royal and flying-jib, but also shifted our gaff-topsail, hauling down Number 3, a jib-headed affair, and setting Number 2 in its place, a sail nearly twice as big as the other, with its lofty, tapering head laced to a yard very nearly as long as the topmast. Then, with her lee rail awash—and, in fact, dipping deeply sometimes, on a lee roll—and the lee scuppers breast-deep in water, the Dolphin began to show us what she really could do in the matter of sailing when called upon; reeling off a steady eleven knots, hour after hour, upon a taut bowline; the smother of froth under her bows boiling up at times to the level of her lee cat-head, and her foresail wet with spray to the height of its reef-band. It was grand sailing, exhilarating as a draught of wine, maddening in the feeling of recklessness that it begot; but, all the same, I did not believe that we were doing more than perhaps just holding our own with the Virginia; it was not under such conditions as those that we were likely to overhaul her; our chance would come when, as we gradually neared the equator, the wind grew more shy and fitful. Nevertheless, I kept a look-out in the fore-topmast cross-trees throughout the hours of daylight, to make sure that we should not overtake her unexpectedly.
We carried on all through that night, and the next day, and the next, with the breeze still holding strong, yet there was no sign of the chase; and, meanwhile, the carpenter informed me we were straining the ship all to pieces and opening her seams to such an extent that the pumps had to be tended for half an hour at a time twice in each watch; while the boatswain was kept in a perpetual state of anxiety lest his rigging should give way under the strain.
At length, on the afternoon of the fourth day after parting from the Eros, the wind began to moderate somewhat rapidly, with the result that by sunset our lee scuppers were dry, although we still had all our flying kites aloft; and that night the watch below were able to bring their mattresses on deck and sleep on the forecastle, a luxury which had hitherto been impossible during our headlong race across the Atlantic. And now I began to feel sanguine that before many hours were over we should see the mastheads of the Virginia creeping above the horizon somewhere ahead of us; for I felt convinced that, in the moderate weather which we were then experiencing, we had the heels of her.
But when the next morning dawned, with the trade-wind breathing no more than a gentle zephyr, the look-out, upon going aloft, reported that the horizon was still bare; which, however, was not to say that the chase might not be within a dozen miles of us, for the atmosphere was exceedingly hazy, and heavy with damp heat which was very oppressive and relaxing, to such an extent, indeed, that the mere act of breathing seemed to demand quite an effort. After taking my usual morning bath under the head pump, I made my way below to my state-room to dress, and found Keene sitting in the main cabin, on one of the sofa lockers, attired only in shirt and trousers, perspiring freely, and in a general state of limpness that was pitiable to behold.
“Morning, skipper!” he gasped. “I say, isn’t this heat awful? Worse, even, than that on the Coast, I think! And what has become of all the wind? I say, I suppose we haven’t made a mistake in our reckoning, and run down on to the Line unbeknownst, have we?”
“If we have,” said I severely, “the mistake is yours Master Jack; for, as you are very well aware, I have been entrusting the navigation of this ship to you.”
Which, by the way, was only true in a certain sense; for while I had given the young man to understand that, for his own benefit and advantage, I intended to make him perform the duty of master, and hold him responsible for the navigation, I had taken care to maintain a strict check upon his calculations and assure myself that he was making no mistakes. Of which fact he was of course quite aware. Wherefore his reply to my retort was simply to change the subject with some celerity.