“I’ve had a squint at ’em, of course, Mr Troubridge,” he answered, as I handed him the glass; “but I haven’t noticed anything extra partic’lar about ’em, so far.” And he applied the instrument to his eye.
“You don’t imagine, for instance, that they are cruising in company; or that they are other than honest trading junks?” I asked.
“Well, I dunno,” he replied, working away at them with the glass. “Perhaps it is a bit strange, seein’ two of ’em out here so close together, and both of ’em steerin’ exactly the same course. Yes, and, by George, now I comes to look at ’em through the glass, I sees that they are both of ’em armed—this here nearest one mounts eight barkers of a side, and I’ll be hanged if I don’t believe her people are a-trainin’ of ’em upon us! Yes; dash me if they ain’t! You’d better look out, sir; they mean to slap a broadside into us in another minute, or I’m a Dutchman!”
I turned and faced forward. “Go below, all of you!” I shouted. “Down with you at once! That junk is going to fire upon us, and some of you may be hurt. Miss Hartley,” turning to the girl, who was standing close beside us, “go down off the poop and get under cover at once, if you please—”
Bang! crash! Eight jets of flame and smoke leapt from the port battery of the nearest junk, which had by this time drawn down broad on our lee quarter, some three cable-lengths distant, and the next instant the air all round us seemed thick with humming missiles, many of which struck the hull and bulwarks of the ship, making the splinters fly, while others passed through our lower canvas, perforating it in two or three dozen places, and providing a nice little repairing job for the hands in some of their future spare moments. A hurried glance along the decks, however, assured me that nobody had been hurt, although there was a good deal of screaming among the women, while several of the children, in the process of being hustled below by their parents, started crying vigorously. Meanwhile Miss Hartley, after pausing a moment to stare in astonishment at the splintered bulwarks and the riddled sails, calmly descended the poop ladder and made her way into the cabin.
“Well,” exclaimed Chips, “swamp me if that ain’t the rummiest go as ever I seen! That junk’s a pirate junk, Mr Troubridge, neither more nor less; and in my opinion t’other one’s no better. Look at that, sir; there she goes in stays! Tell ye what, sir, they means to get us in between ’em if they can!”
“Upon my word, Chips, I believe you are right!” said I, as the more distant of the two junks swept up into the wind, preparatory to going round on the other tack. “And if they should succeed it will be a pretty poor lookout for all hands aboard this ship! Have we any arms of any description, do you know, with which to defend ourselves?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Mr Troubridge,” answered the carpenter in tones of great concern. “I haven’t seen none. But there may be a few muskets, or some’at of that sort, stowed away somewheres down below, for all that I knows. If there is, I dare say the bosun’ll know where to lay his hands upon ’em.”
“Then the best thing that you can do will be to go down and call the boatswain, and put the question to— ah, here he is!” as Polson’s head showed above the poop ladder. “Come up here, Polson!” I exclaimed; “you are just the man we want. That junk astern of us has just treated us to a broadside of langrage, and Chips’s opinion of the pair of them is that they are a couple of piratical craft. Have we any firearms of any kind aboard with which to defend the ship, or must we run for it?”
“I believe that there’s a case of two dozen muskets and some ammunition down in a little bit of a magazine abaft the lazarette,” answered Polson; “and I fancies that there’s a few round shot for them two six-pounders of ours. Shall I go down and have a look, Mr Troubridge?”