“She’s lost, once she gets inshore,” Alec replied gleefully. “We should be able to hem her in with but little trouble, and I warrant that Oliver isn’t losing the sight of such a possibility.”
“He may have such a plan in mind, but I misdoubt his being able to carry it out,” the gunner said, as he scanned the horizon. “Unless this is the time when all signs fail, we’ll soon have so much wind that it will be a question of shortening canvas, and the commodore won’t be so venturesome as to fool around among these islands, takin’ the chances of losin’ one or more of the fleet.”
Until this moment I had failed to note the unpleasant fact that the wind was rising rapidly.
Low-hanging clouds in the east told of a storm, accompanied by more of a breeze than would be comfortable or pleasant, and, in addition, night was close at hand.
“The Britisher is in as much danger of coming to grief as we are,” Alec said at length, after observing the signs of which I have spoken. “Our pilot should know the channels as well as theirs, and—”
An exclamation of dismay from Master Boyd’s lips checked his speech, and, following the direction of the gunner’s outstretched hand, we saw the gallant little Scorpion come to a sudden stop, roll to and fro for an instant, after which she settled down in such manner as told us she had taken ground.
An instant later her canvas was furled, and we knew that, so far as she was concerned, the chase had come to an end.
The Britisher had disappeared behind Put-in-Bay island, and she was no more than shut out from our view when the squall burst upon us with a fury such as I have seldom seen equalled.
It surely seemed as if the elements conspired to aid our enemies, and at that moment I lost hope.
Commodore Perry was a man who appeared to gain courage when the outlook was most gloomy, and now he gave new proof of his ability to command.