A momentary gleam of pride lit up the countenance of the captain as he said hastily: “You may stay, then,” and turned towards the men, who now stood assembled on the quarterdeck.
Addressing the crew in his own blunt, vigorous style, he said: “Lads, yon rascally schooner is a pirate, as you all know well enough. I need not ask you if you are ready to fight—I see by your looks you are. But that’s not enough—you must make up your minds to fight well. You know that pirates give no quarter. I see the decks are swarming with men. If you don’t go at them like bull-dogs you’ll walk the plank before sunset, every man of you. Now, go forward, and double-shot your muskets and pistols, and stick as many of the latter into your belts as they will hold. Mr Thompson, let the gunner double-shot the four big guns, and load the little carronade with musket balls to the muzzle. If they do try to board us they’ll get a warm reception.”
“There goes a shot, sir,” said Buzzby, pointing towards the piratical schooner, from the side of which a white cloud burst and a round shot ricochetted over the sea, passing close ahead of the ship.
“Ay, that’s a request for us to lay-to,” said the captain bitterly, “but we won’t. Keep her away a point.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” sung out the man at the wheel. A second and third shot were fired, but passed unheeded, and the captain, fully expecting that the next would be fired into them, ordered the men below.
“We can’t afford to lose a man, Mr Thompson; send them all down.”
“Please, sir, may I remain?” said Buzzby, touching his hat.
“Obey orders,” answered the captain sternly. The sailor went below with a sulky fling.
For nearly an hour the two vessels cut through the water before a steady breeze, during which time the fast-sailing schooner gradually overhauled the heavy West-Indiaman, until she approached within speaking distance. Still Captain Ellice paid no attention to her, but stood with compressed lips beside the man at the wheel, gazing alternately at the sails of his vessel and at the windward horizon, where he fancied he saw indications that led him to hope the breeze would fail ere long.
As the schooner drew nearer, a man leaped on the hammock-nettings, and, putting a trumpet to his mouth, sang out lustily: “Ship ahoy, where are you from and what’s your cargo?”