Such is the perversity of blind fortune! Under ordinary circumstances nothing would have pleased me better than to meet this audacious outlaw and his cut-throat crew in a clear sea, and to try conclusions with them. But now I was hampered with the possession of a valuable prize which I was most anxious to take safely into port, while my little force was seriously weakened by the withdrawal of the prize crew which I had been obliged to put on board the Dolores. It was therefore not wholly without apprehension that, under these untoward circumstances, I witnessed the approach of the formidable brigantine. I would have preferred to have met her, if possible, upon somewhat more equal terms; but there she was, doubtless bent upon the capture of the Dolores, and there was nothing for it but to prepare for her as warm a reception as it was in our power to give. I therefore descended to the deck and gave orders to call all hands and clear for action, at the same time signalling to Christie that the stranger in sight was a pirate, and that he was to keep out of harm’s way during the impending action, keeping on upon his course, and leaving us in the schooner to deal with the intruder.
Our preparations were soon complete, but none too soon; for, approaching each other as we were at a good pace, the space between the brigantine and ourselves narrowed very rapidly. Nevertheless there was time, when all was done, to say a few words to the men; so, as I anticipated that the struggle upon which we were about to engage would be a tough one, I called them aft and said—
“My lads, you have all heard of the atrocious pirate Morillo who haunts these waters; you have heard something of his doings from those poor fellows belonging to the Wyvern who were picked up by us when we were searching for the Althea’s boats, and you saw for yourselves a specimen of his handiwork in the blazing hull of the Kingston Trader, the unfortunate crew of which ship only too probably perished with her. The scoundrel and his gang of cold-blooded murderers are aboard that brigantine; and after what you have heard and seen, I need not tell you what is likely to be the fate of any of us, or of those aboard the Dolores, should we be so unfortunate as to fall into their hands. They are undoubtedly about to attempt the capture of the Spaniard. Now, it is for you to say whether they shall do so, or whether you will send them all to the bottom of the sea instead. Which is it to be, men?”
“Put us alongside of her, Mr Courtenay, sir, and we’ll
soon show you—and them too—which it’s to be,” answered one of the men, the rest instantly corroborating the remark by such exclamations as, “Ay, ay; we’ll give ’em their gruel, never fear.”
“Well spoke, Tommy; true for you, my son,” and so on.
“Very well,” said I, “that is the answer I expected. Now go to your guns, men; and see that you make every shot tell.”
While clearing for action we had also made sail and shot ahead of the Dolores; and within five minutes of the moment when the crew went back to their guns, we were within half a mile of the brigantine, which craft was then crossing our bows, tearing through the long, low swell like a racing yacht, with a storm of diamond spray flashing up over her weather bow at every graceful plunge of her into the trough. She was a beautiful vessel, long and low, with enormously taunt, raking masts and a phenomenal spread of canvas—a craft well worth fighting for; and I thought what a proud day it would be for me if perchance I should be fortunate enough to capture and take her triumphantly into Port Royal harbour. She was now well within range, so I sang out to Lindsay, who was looking after matters on the forecastle, to know whether the nine-pounder pivot gun was ready.
“All ready, sir, and bearing dead on the brigantine,” was the answer.