"Perhaps she has sighted us, and wishes to communicate," suggested Touchstone.
"Or else she's a buccaneer," added 'Enery, as he swung himself into the main shrouds in order to get a better view from the topmast head.
"We are out of the regular cruising ground of those gentlemen," remarked Captain Jeremy. "But 'tis no saying what she may prove to be. Master Touchstone, will you see that the arms are served out?"
Two hours later, for the wind was still light, we were within a mile of the strange brig. She was a vessel very similar to the Golden Hope in design, but with what a difference in appearance!
She was still hove-to, moving very slowly through the water. Her yards were badly squared, while her running gear seemed to be in a state of neglect, several of the sheets and braces trailing over the side. She carried four guns abroadside, and these were run out in apparent preparation to ward off an attack; while her decks were crowded with men.
"What do they think to do?" asked the master gunner. "'Tis certain they have no stomach for a fight, or else they would keep way on her."
"If they do not pay heed to their t'gallants they are lost men," said Captain Miles. "See, already the sky is overcast to windward. Yet it may be but a trick, so stand to your guns, men."
In obedience to a further order, the red cross of St. George was shown from our foremast truck, for the course our vessel was taking prevented the ensign at the peak being seen by the stranger.
No ensign was hoisted in reply, and in perfect silence the others awaited our approach.
"What ship is that?" hailed Captain Jeremy through his speaking trumpet. There was still no answer, although the Golden Hope was passing within fifty yards of the stranger's bows. The hail was repeated, and to our surprise a lusty voice shouted: