It seemed to me in the highest degree foolhardy to continue the chase under such circumstances, and I questioned if it had not already been abandoned.
“What sail are we under?” I asked of the man nearest, bawling the words in his ear because the uproar even down there between decks was so great that one was forced to shout in order to make himself heard.
“Carryin’ everything that can be jammed on her,” the sailor replied, with a growl of discontent. “The captain is bound to make good the words of the ghost, an’, accordin’ to the looks of things, I’d say the cruise is like to be ended in short order.”
[CHAPTER VII.]
A LIVELY SCRIMMAGE.
It surely seemed as if the possibility of capturing the chase might have kept the men’s thoughts, for a time at least, from those mysterious happenings which had sown the seeds of mutiny among us; but yet such was not the case.
For my part, the gale which was buffeting the ship, because she dare show such a press of canvas that at times it appeared as if the fabric lay upon her beam ends, was enough to banish all thought of that which occurred and could not readily be explained.
Had the America been snugged down in proper condition to meet the furious blasts, the tempest might have howled yet louder without causing a single sensation of uneasiness or fear, because we knew full well that the good ship was fit to meet any ordinary tumult of nature.