“Confound the fellow’s impudence!” exclaimed Sir Reginald. “Does the rascal think that he is going to make a prize of us? A fine rich prize we should make, too, did he but know it!”
“It is not that,” explained Mildmay. “It is the white ensign that he doesn’t like the look of. He probably takes us for some new-fangled sort of British gun-boat, bent upon interfering with his little game; and he wants to disable us. He is one of those pestilently persistent fellows who won’t take a hint and sheer off; he is as full of obstinacy as was the mammoth that chased me over yonder,”—with a jerk of his thumb toward the north—“on our first trip, and must be treated as we treated that mammoth. For if we don’t kill him, he will kill us—if he can. You see? Here comes another shot!”
It was a very close shave that time, the missile passing so close athwart the front of the pilot-house that its wind actually came, in a sudden, violent gust, in through the pilot-house window.
“We must put a stop to this at once, or the fellow will do us a mischief,” exclaimed Mildmay. “Kindly take the helm for a moment, Sir Reginald, if you please.”
Sir Reginald at once stepped to the tiller and laid his hand on it. “Where am I to steer for?” he asked.
“Head for the liner, in the first instance,” answered Mildmay, as he threw the self-steering apparatus out of gear; “and then bring the ship’s head very gradually round until you are pointing for the pirate’s stern.”
And, so saying, he stepped to the fore midship window of the pilot-house, laid his finger lightly upon the firing-button that controlled the discharge of the torpedo-shells from the tube in the extremity of the ship’s sharp snout, and so placed his eye that he brought the jack-staff forward in a direct line with a very small notch in
the window-frame. He stood thus, rigid and tense, while Sir Reginald did his part of the work; and presently he saw the jack-staff swinging slowly round toward the pirate cruiser. He waited thus until his two sights pointed something less than an eighth of a length ahead of the cruiser, and then he pressed the button hard. As he did so, something flashed like a sudden gleam of sunlight from the Flying Fish’s stem, a sheet of water some four or five yards in length leaped into the air from under the bows, and some six seconds later a blinding flash started out from the side of the cruiser, midway between her stem and her foremast. As the flash disappeared, Lethbridge, who was watching the ship through his binoculars, saw a great black patch on the cruiser’s side, exactly where the flash had occurred; and while he was still wondering what it could mean he became aware that the craft was rapidly settling by the head. And before he could sufficiently recover from his astonishment to utter a word, the cruiser’s bows sank to a level with the water, her stern rose high in the air, with the propeller still spinning round, and in another second she dived forward and disappeared, with the black flag still fluttering from her main truck.