“What do they look like, Mr Vining?” queried the skipper.
“One is a full-rigged ship, apparently of about six hundred tons; the other is a low, wicked-looking brigantine, sir, very loftily rigged, and with an immense spread of canvas.”
“Um!” said the skipper. “Just keep a sharp eye upon them, if you please, Mr Vining, and see what you can make of them. I’ll be on deck shortly.”
The second lieutenant withdrew, and we hurried on with the meal. By the time that we had finished and were on deck once more, the sun had set, and the short twilight of the tropics was upon us. The islands—mere rocks, as Carter had said—forming the western extremity of the group were already on our lee beam; the nearest of them being about three miles distant, while others stretched away to leeward of them right away to the horizon, and even beyond it. Key Grande, the largest of the group, lay right ahead, distant about fifteen miles; while El Roque, another island, lay broad upon our weather bow, about five miles distant. The lookout aloft reported the two strange sail to be just anchoring.
“We’ve stayed below a trifle too long, I’m afraid,” said the skipper; “we shall have darkness upon us in ten minutes. Mr Chester, kindly slip up to the topsail-yard and see what you can make out about the strangers, if you please.”
“I’ll come with you, Ralph, my boy,” said Mr Flinn. “Four eyes are better than two; and, as I see that the skipper means to give them an overhaul, it is as well that we should learn all we can about them beforehand.”
We accordingly shinned up the ratlines together, and were soon comfortably settled on the fore-topsail-yard. We remained there until the brief twilight had so far faded that it was impossible to make out more than the general outline of the ships, and then we descended and made our report.
The said report amounted to this. The brigantine, we had quite made up our minds, was either a privateer or a pirate, but of what nationality, if the former, we were not quite clear, and the ship we took to be a Spaniard of about five hundred tons. The water was breaking so confusedly among and over the reefs ahead of us that we felt very doubtful whether the boats—much less the ship—could find a way through; but we were of opinion that there was a narrow belt of clear water close to the shore.
Mr Martin, the master, had meanwhile brought up the chart and spread it open upon the capstan-head; but the moment that we looked at it and compared it with what we saw around us, it became evident that it was by no means to be relied upon, so far at least as this particular spot was concerned.
“’Bout ship at once, if you please, Mr Flinn,” said the skipper. “We’ll go no nearer—on this side at all events—I don’t half like being so close as we are now. We’ll furl the topgallant-sails and take down a reef in the topsails also.”