The next forenoon Dick Lanyard was the officer of the watch, and, about nine o'clock, the commodore, who had just come on deck, addressed him:—"Mr Lanyard, do you see any thing of the small hooker yet, to windward there?"
"I thought I saw something like her, sir, about half an hour ago; but a blue haze has come rolling down, and I cannot make any thing out at present."
"She must be thereabouts somewhere, however," continued he, "as she was seen yesterday by the Yankee brig,—so keep by the wind until four bells, Mr Lanyard, and then call me, if you please."
"Ay, ay, sir;" and he resumed his walk on the weather-side of the quarterdeck.
In a couple of hours we were all on deck again; as the breeze freshened the mist blew off, and in half an hour the felucca was seen about three miles to windward of us, staggering along before it, like a large nautilus, under her solitary lateen sail;—presently she was close aboard of us.
I was looking steadfastly at the little vessel as she came rolling down before the wind, keeping my eye on the man that was bending on the ensign haulyards. First of all, he began to hoist away the ensign, until it reached about half-way between the end of the long, drooping, wirelike yard and the deck; he then jerked it upwards and downwards for a minute, as if irresolute whether to run it chokeup, or haul it down again; at length it hung half-mast high, and blew out steadily.
My mind suddenly misgave me, and I looked for the pennant; it was also hoisted half-mast—"Alas! alas! poor Donovan," I involuntarily exclaimed—but loud enough to be overheard by the commodore, who stood by—"another victim to this horrid coast."
"What is wrong, Mr Brail?" said Sir Oliver.
"I fear Mr Donovan is dead, sir. The felucca's ensign and pennant are half-mast, sir."
"Bless me, no—surely not!" said the excellent old man;—"hand me the glass.—Too true—too true—where is all this to end?" said he with a sigh.