“It do, sir,” answered Bill solemnly. “The cap’n mortially hated it, and it do seem funny he couldn’t help it when the ship was gittin’ over the water so much faster than she was in the beginnin’. It puzzles me, it do,” he added, shaking his head waggishly.
The two ships were now within hail. It was Paul Jones’s intention to send up the American ensign as soon as the enemy had got near enough to recognize it in the fast gathering gloom, but the sailor who had hoisted the British ensign had not taken care to make fast the other end of the halyards, so as to draw it down rapidly, and there was some difficulty in getting the British colors down and the American colors up. This enabled the British ship to range up close under the lee quarter of the Ariel.
The short tropical twilight was fast deepening into night, but a brilliant moon trembled in the heavens, and the dark-blue dome was flecked with stars. The two ships lay close to each other, like phantom ships upon the water, but the light from their lanterns and batteries glowed redly.
In the midst of a deathlike silence Lieutenant Lunt’s voice rang out the questions given him in a whisper by Paul Jones, who stood near him.
“Ship ahoy! What ship is that?” asked Lunt.
“His Majesty’s ship Triumph,” replied the British captain.
“Of how many guns?” asked Lunt.
Everybody awaited the answer to this in breathless silence. There was a long pause, and Lunt repeated his question.
The answer came back purposely unintelligible. Officers and men cast significant glances around. That meant the British ship was ready to fight if the stranger should prove an enemy.
“What is the name of your captain?” was next asked.