Chapter Thirteen.
They are rescued at last—Capture of the Pirate Ship Black Pearl and her Captain, José Leirya.
It was scarcely possible that Cavendish should not recognise the island—both by sight and from his reckoning—as the one on which Roger and his little crew had been left; yet all three of the vessels comprising his squadron were cracking on in chase of the Black Pearl, and evincing not the least interest in the sand-bank, which they were leaving on their starboard beam.
“Well,” ejaculated Roger, “having come thus far, one at least of those ships might have hauled in and hove-to long enough to send a boat ashore and take us off. Mr Cavendish will scarcely need all three of his vessels to capture that one craft. But I expect old Cary has recognised the schooner as Leirya’s ship, and the captain is determined to make sure of her, trusting that we shall be able to hold out here until he has captured her and found time to return for us. Still, the pirate may lead them a long chase, lasting perhaps for several days; and if they are going to catch him, I should like to be aboard to help in the fight with José.”
The seamen said nothing, but it was clear that they fully shared Roger’s disappointment as they stood staring at the fleet of ships that went sailing past at a
distance of some four or five miles—too far off for the castaways to be observed from their decks.
Suddenly Bevan uttered an ejaculation, and, turning, ran at full speed to the hut, and reappeared in a moment with an armful of wood from the stock which they kept for replenishing the fire. He cast this down on the beach, and, kneeling beside it, proceeded with feverish haste to strike a light from his tinder-box.
“Quick!” he exclaimed; “get some damp wood, wet sea-weed, anything you like that’ll make a smoke; only for goodness’ sake be quick! It’s our only chance!”
The other two, infected by his excitement, at once ran to do his bidding, but they were quite at a loss to understand the reason for such violent hurry.