The four flags were again lowered on board the brigantine, and four new ones were again hoisted. They were read, and were found to signify ‘too.’
“What can the fellow want to say?” inquired the commander, vaguely: “answer his signal.”
The signal was answered, and other flags were again hoisted on board the brigantine. When all the signals were taken together, they read—
“You are too far, your guns don’t carry.”
While at the conclusion of the process of exchanging signals, the broad black flag, with its head and bones, was spread over the mainsail.
“The rascals,” muttered the old commander, as he moved away from the bulwarks, with indignant disgust, “it is the same set, may the devil take them!”
“Ha, younker, what d’you see now, eh? You will believe old Jack Gangway another time, I know,” said the same old sailor, who all along had been so knowing and so suspicious.
“Crack on, crack on,” cried the old commander, “and haul your wind, we may edge up to her on a close bowline, and let her feel our metal.”
All the sails of the large vessel were now set. She was drawn closely to the wind, and leaned under the fresh breeze.