"On board the sloop!" replied Mr. Pennant, standing up in the stern sheets. "What sloop is that?"
"The Magnolia, bound to Appalachicola," replied the spokesman of the craft. "What boat is that?"
"The first cutter of the United States steamer Bronx! Heave to, and give an account of yourselves," hailed the officer in command. "Stand by to lay on your oars!" he added in a lower tone to his crew. "Oars!"
But the boat seemed to be running too far away from the sloop, though it was near enough for the lieutenant and quartermaster to see that there was a decided commotion on board of her.
"Hold water!" added the lieutenant. "Stern all!"
The momentum of the cutter was checked, and the boat placed in a convenient position for a further conference with the sloop. Either by intention or carelessness the skipper of the sail-boat had permitted her to broach to, probably because he was giving too much attention to the boat and too little to the sloop. When the cutter lost its headway, it was not more than fifty feet from the sloop.
"Hold the sloop as she is, and I will board you," said Mr. Pennant, as he saw the skipper filling away again.
"Keep off, or we will fire into you!" shouted the man on the forecastle, who appeared to be the principal man of the party.
"See that your pistols and cutlasses are ready for use," said the third lieutenant, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the crew only.
"We are all private citizens," added the sloop's spokesman.