“But we may be more scared than hurt,” remarked my father, calmly. “All nations have men-o’-war in these waters, and it ain’t a bit strange we should run across one. Like as not she won’t mind us at all.”
“But the course she’s headed won’t take her to any port in creation,” observed Ned, shaking his head dolefully. “She’s after the Seagull, sure enough.”
It really looked that way, and we stood with bated breath and watched the huge hulk come on. It would be folly to try to run away; still we did not pause an instant.
In an hour she was less than a mile to leeward, and soon we saw a puff of smoke followed by a shot that flew singing across our bow. At the same time she hoisted her flag peak and Ned took a look at it through his glass.
“Egypt,” he said, laconically, and my heart sank like a chunk of lead.
“The jig’s up, fellows,” I said, mournfully. “Joe, my lad, you’ve been rich for nearly a whole day. To-night you’ll be a pauper again.”
Joe grinned, but not with a pleasant expression, and turned away to vanish below deck. I was really sorry for the poor chap—and sorry for ourselves, too.
“Never mind,” said Archie, consolingly; “we’ve had a lot of fun, anyhow. The Khedive can’t rob us of that.”
As Captain Steele hesitated to obey the first shot a second one quickly followed, and this came so near to piercing the hull of his beloved Seagull that my father uttered a gruff explanation and ordered Ned to lay to. The engines were stopped and slowly we lost way and floated quietly upon the sea, which was smooth as a mill-pond. The sky was overcast with a mantle of solid gray and not a breath of wind was stirring.
Had we not been so preoccupied with other matters I am sure we would ere this have been speculating on the queer atmospheric conditions that prevailed, and wondering what they might portend.