At the same time there was of course a possibility of our being mistaken as to the craft in sight being the pirate-brig, it being by no means an unusual thing for vessels as small as she was, or even smaller, to venture round the Cape.
“Well,” said I, “perhaps it will be safest, Bob, to assume for the present that this brig is the Albatross. What, under such circumstances, is your advice?”
“Which of us has the weather-gauge, d’ye think?” queried Bob.
“It is rather difficult to decide at present,” I replied. “Much depends upon which of us is the fastest. If we are both going at about the same speed, I should say we shall pass extremely close to her.”
“How is she heading, Harry?” was the next question.
“To the northward, rather edging down towards us, if anything, I thought.”
“Ay, ay,” chuckled Bob, “it ain’t every craft as can stick her bowsprit into the wind’s eye like this here little barkie. Now I dare swear he’s jammed hard up upon a taut bowline, and here we are going as close to the wind as he is, and every thread ramping full. Take hold of her a minute, Hal, and let’s see what these old eyes of mine can tell us about the stranger.”
I took hold of the tiller, and Bob went aloft with the deliberation of the seaman who is in no particular hurry. Having reached the cross-trees, he stood upon them, with one hand grasping the peak-halliards to steady himself, whilst with the other he shaded his eyes.
“I see her, I see her,” he exclaimed; “we’re raising her fast, Harry, my boy; and in another half-hour or so we shall see her from the deck.” He then went as high as the yard of the topsail, and clung there for a good five minutes, reading all the signs which a seaman sees in the almost imperceptible peculiarities of rig, shape of sails, etcetera. Having satisfied himself, he descended deliberately to the deck, evidently ruminating deeply.
“Now I’ll tell ye what I think of the matter, Harry,” said he, as he came aft and seated himself beside me. “There’s a familiar sort of a look with that craft away yonder; I seems to recognise her as some’at I’ve seen afore; and I’ve no moral doubt in the world but what it’s that villain Johnson, although we can’t be sartain of it until we gets a nearer look at her. And I’ve an idee that, if anything, it’s we that’s got the weather-gauge; and if so, by all means keep it, even if we has to run the gauntlet of her broadside for a minute or two. Once let’s be to wind’ard, and in such weather as this I wouldn’t fear the smartest square-rigged craft that ever was launched. We could lead ’em no end of a dance, and then give ’em the slip a’terwards when we was tired of the fun. So my advice is to luff up as close as you can; not too close ye know, lad; let her go through it; but spring your luff all as you can get, and let’s try what our friend yonder is made of. As long as we’re to leeward of him the game is his; but let’s get to wind’ard of him and it’s ours to do what we like with it.”