“No, your honor.”
“What sort of a thing is she?”
“She looks to be a fore-and-aft, your honor.”
Willmington was called, and, on being required to do so, gave the best description he could of the pirate vessel.
“It is likely the same vessel,” the officer remarked, after he had heard Willmington.
“Cheerily, men, look active.”
The sailors scarcely required any exhortation. They went through their work with more than ordinary good-will. In the first place, the idea of something like active service excited them, for they felt oppressed under the ennui of leisurely sailing from one port to another; and they longed to chastise the rash temerity of those degraded wretches who had the insolence to make an attempt of rescuing a prisoner from their lordly ship.
The majestic structure, therefore, was soon put in motion, and was now to be seen sailing magnificently before the wind. Gradually it gained on what was at first distant and obscure. As the ship drew nearer and nearer to it, the vessel grew more and more distinct, and could now be clearly made out as a long, low, rakish schooner. It was, in fact, the Black Schooner.
The huge vessel-of-war approached nearer and still nearer, but the schooner remained still stationary where she was. The sailors of the man-of-war prepared for action with enthusiasm. They could easily judge, from the shape of the schooner, and its peculiar rig, that she was the vessel of a pirate, if not of the pirate of whom they had so often heard. They saw their prize before them. The schooner, they thought, must yield to the superior strength of the man-of-war, and her conquest would be the easiest thing in the world. Besides, the little vessel could not but perceive their approach, and as she did not sail away, they argued there must needs be some cause, either mutiny or some other disagreement on board, which neutralized the authority of those in power, and which, consequently, would make her a still easier prize. They prepared their guns, on this account, with the keenest alacrity and lightness of heart, for men are always the more enthusiastic and brave when they are pretty well assured that they can command success.
The large vessel sailed down on the small schooner, that was still lying to, the standard of England was already waving from the spanker, the men were standing at their several stations, and the commander himself, who had now come on deck, was anxiously waiting until he came within gun-shot of the schooner, to signal her to surrender. The ship drew still closer, the order was given to make ready to fire, when ... like the shadowy fleetness of a dream, the masts of the Black Schooner at once became clothed in canvass, the black ensign with the cross bones and skull ran up the line on her gaff in chilling solemnity, while on the top of her raking masts floated two long pendant flags as red as blood, and the sharp vessel began to glide like a serpent silently over the waters.