The brig had in the interim run down to within about four miles of the whaler, and was still flying along, dead before the wind, with everything set, up to topgallant stunsails on both sides; and no sign had so far revealed itself on board her by which we could judge of the intention of her crew.
By the time that she had run another mile, we saw the whaler’s main-yard once more thrown aback; an indication that she was about to pick up her other two boats; and there now appeared to be a strong probability that she would have time to hoist them in and be off again, before the pirate could approach her within gun-shot.
The situation became eminently exciting; and so anxious was I that the whaler should have every chance of making her escape, that I directed Bob to let go our spinnaker out-haul, and allow the traveller to run in along the boom, in the hope that, by leading the pirates to believe it had become necessary for us to shorten sail, they might be tempted, after all, to keep on in chase of us, instead of interfering with the barque.
It would have afforded us almost unmitigated satisfaction to have seen them continue the chase, for we now felt perfectly satisfied that in moderate weather we had the heels of the Albatross, both close-hauled and running free, and could we succeed in decoying them far enough to leeward to permit of the whaler making good his escape, I was willing to trust to the future for the means of ultimately shaking our vindictive pursuer off.
In further prosecution of this project, as soon as Bob had got the spinnaker in, I lashed the tiller for a moment and jumped forward to assist him in getting in our enormous balloon-topsail, which I foresaw would have to be taken off the craft shortly if we wished to save the topmast, the wind being rather on the increase and our rigging already strained to the tension of harp-strings. This done, we found time to take another look at the whaler.
His main-yard was just swinging as we turned our glances in his direction, and then his bows fell off until he headed about north-west; his men springing into the rigging and scurrying away aloft to loose topgallant-sails; one hand meantime laying out on the jibboom to loose the flying-jib.
Away went the jolly old craft in magnificent style, heading about north-west, and evidently upon her best point of sailing. She crossed our stern, shutting out the pirate brig for a moment, and we fully expected that when that craft next appeared we should see her hauled up in chase; but nothing of the kind; on she came, still heading direct for us, and I began to hope that our plan of luring her on to follow us was about to prove successful.
Two or three minutes, which seemed like ages to us, elapsed; and then, all in a moment, his stunsails (or studding-sails, as I ought more correctly to spell the word) collapsed, and fluttered wildly for a few seconds in the breeze, and disappeared; his royal-halliards were let go, and the sails rolled up and furled; and as he hauled up to follow the barque, his foresail lifted and there was a flash, a puff of white smoke, and before the report had time to drive down to us we saw the shot skipping along from wave to wave, as a polite intimation to the barque to heave to.
But the whaling skipper was not the man to give up without a struggle. He had no studding-sails, but he was heading in such a direction that the brig could not use hers while following him, and it seemed that he trusted to his light trim to enable him to get clear.
Gun after gun was now rapidly fired by the pirates, but they were not yet within range, though it was only too evident that they would be before very long, and I greatly feared that the barque’s chances of escape were remarkably small.