“Mr Fortescue,” said the skipper, “you know more about yonder vessel than any of the rest of us, therefore you shall take the second cutter, with her crew fully armed, and proceed on board to take possession.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered I; and running down the poop ladder I gave the order for the boatswain to pipe the second cutter away while I went below to buckle on my sword and thrust a pair of pistols into my belt. By the time that the boat’s crew were mustered, and the boat made ready for lowering, we were hove-to within biscuit-toss of the other vessel’s weather quarter, and were able to read with the naked eye the words “Virginia, New Orleans,” legibly painted across the turn of her counter.
“D’ye see that, Mr Fortescue?” questioned the skipper, pointing to the inscription. “I hope there is no mistake as to the accuracy of your information; because, if there is, you know, we shall have got ourselves into a rather awkward mess by firing upon and winging that craft!”
“Never fear, sir,” answered I confidently; “I know the secret of that trick, as you shall see very shortly.”
“Very well,” said he, “off you go. And as soon as you have secured possession let me know, and I will send the carpenter and a strong gang aboard to help you to clear away the wreck and get another topmast on end before it falls dark.”
Five minutes later I was alongside the prize, which, as on the occasion of my previous visit, I was compelled to board by way of the lee main chains, no side ladder having been put over for my accommodation. My Yankee friend and his mate were on the poop watching us, and I thought the former turned a trifle pale as he noted the strength of the crew that I had brought with me.
“All hands out of the boat, and veer her away astern!” ordered I as we swept alongside; and the next moment I and my party were over the rail and on deck. I had already made my plans during the short passage of the boat between the two vessels; consequently the moment that we were all aboard young Copplestone, who had come with me, led a party of men forward to drive the slaver’s crew below, while I, with a couple of sturdy seamen to back me up, ascended to the poop.
“Look ’e hyar, young feller,” began the Yankee skipper, as I set foot on the poop, “I wanter know what’s the meanin’ of this outrage. D’ye see that there flag up there? That’s the galorious—”
“Stars and Stripes,” I cut in. “Yes; I recognise it. But I may as well tell you at once that I know this ship has no right to hoist those colours. She is the Preciosa, a slaver hailing from Havana, and sailing under Spanish colours; consequently she is the lawful prize of his Britannic Majesty’s ship Eros; and I am here to take possession of her.”
I saw the man turn pale under his tan, and for a moment he was speechless, while his mate Silas whispered something in his ear. But he would not listen. Instead, he pushed the man roughly away, angrily exclaiming, “Hold yer silly tongue, ye blame fool!” Then, turning to me, he demanded: