“Aye, aye, sir,” hailed back Masters. “Starboard watch ahoy! Away forrads with you along o’ me!”
Our engines had already slackened speed; and, the helm being put down, we came up to the wind, to leeward of the ship and not a half cable’s length away from her, broadside-on.
“Stand by there, forrad,” shouted the skipper. “Ship ahoy there! Surrender, or we’ll run you aboard.”
A wild savage yell came back in reply from a number of half-naked negroes who were mustered on the after part of the vessel, as well as on the forecastle, not a single white man being visible, while her Tricolour flag—so conspicuous before, and which I fancied having seen but half an hour or so previously when looking at her through the telescope—was now no longer to be seen.
Could our worst fears have been realised?
Another savage yell almost confirmed the thought. “Heavens!” exclaimed Colonel Vereker, rendered almost frantic with grief and excitement, and noticing the appalling evidences of the Haytians’ triumph, while we stared aghast at each other. “My poor darling child, and those brave fellows I left behind, where are they all; where are they? For God’s sake find them! Alas! alas! those black devils have murdered them all.”