"Avast heaving!" he continued, at a sign from my father, and the clanking of the winch ceased, the dripping anchor hanging just clear of the surface. In the tideless sea, with not a breath of wind to ruffle the absolutely calm water, the "Fortuna" lay motionless, awaiting the approach of her rival.
"Blest if I don't know 'er!" exclaimed one of the crew. "Why, if she ain't the old 'Ermyhony' that used ter lie off Priddy's. 'Ard when I was in the 'Nelson' I'll eat my 'at."
"The what did he say?" I asked the doctor.
"The 'Hermione' I suppose he means," he replied with a smile.
"Hoist our colours," ordered my father, and the blue ensign was run up to the mizzen-truck, where it hung motionless in the still atmosphere.
The strange yacht still held on her course, and slowly, so slowly that it seemed like an exhibition of sulky reluctance, her ensign was hoisted, and simultaneously, with a heavy splash and a loud rattle of chain, the anchor was let go.
To me, her colours, as they hung in folds from her mainmast head, appeared to be a mixture of blue, green, and yellow, but my ignorance of their nationality was dispelled by a general exclamation, "The Brazilian ensign!"
"There you are! Am I not right?" said my father.
"Yes," replied Uncle Herbert, who was studying the group on the bridge through a glass. "And see that fellow by the chart-house door, the second from the end? I would know him anywhere in spite of his brass-bound togs. It's our old acquaintance, alias James Ticket, right enough. But see him scowl!"
"They're signalling, sir," said Lord, the quartermaster, as a string, of bunting fluttered up from her bridge.