“What have you there?” he asked.
“The dispatch,” exclaimed Ethan joyfully. “Here is the highwayman of whom I spoke to you,” pointing to Hatfield, “and he still had it in his possession.”
“Fortune still follows you,” cried Jones as he took the paper which the lad held out to him.
“And misfortune seems to follow me,” spoke the knight of the road as they led him away among the other prisoners. “There is ten thousand pounds gone to pot.”
The crew of the Serapis was disarmed and imprisoned below. Then, as the shattered Richard threatened to sink at any moment, the prisoners and wounded were hastily distributed between the Pallas and the captured Englishman; the American commander and his crew shifting to the latter ship which, though badly crippled in the rigging, was still seaworthy.
The Richard’s own crew and some from the Pallas strove at the pumps to keep out the inrushing water from the doomed vessel; but their efforts were of no avail, and on the morning of the twenty-fifth their officers called them away.
As the last man was going over the side into Lieutenant Dale’s boat, Ethan Carlyle swarmed up the damaged shrouds of the American ship.
“Come back,” shouted Dale. “She is going down.”
But the boy continued upward till he reached the main top; then he drew from beneath his arm a flag, and with a few rapid blows nailed it to the mast. He had descended and clambered into the boat, which pulled rapidly away, before the Richard gave her last heavy shuddering lurch; then, with her battle flag streaming above her, she dipped grandly and sank slowly beneath the waves.