He dashed into his room, and came back with a heavy revolver. The express messenger came up while we were lowering away, and handed me another.
"We'll go with you," he said.
"No! No use loading her down with men," I replied; "we want to get some speed on her—row six oars double banked, and that'll fill her up—you can come, you, Smith, and myself—it won't take a ship's crew to get them—lower away," I called, and the boat dropped.
We followed, and in less time than it takes to tell it we were going through the sea at seven knots an hour with the best-drilled boat in the ship. Three men aft armed, and that was all.
It was a bright summer morning, with almost no wind, and I was certain that we would soon overhaul the runaways. The schooner lifted her anchor, and stood out to the westward and southward, and soon appeared to be making good headway.
"By Jupiter, she's got a motor in her!" said Smith.
She was going ahead, almost straight in the eye of the wind, just close enough to keep her sails full, and she was moving a good five knots. She was a good four miles distant, and we would have to do some fine rowing to catch her.
I looked my men over, and wondered if they could stand it. They pulled steadily, and the boat went along swiftly, but even a heavy ship with an engine has a distinct advantage over oars.
The schooner's motor was but an auxiliary, to be sure, but five or six knots under motor was something desperate to catch by rowing when we were so far astern.
At the end of another mile I was getting anxious. Our bearings were not changed to any extent, and the third officer looked askance at me.