As for me, the joy I should have felt at finding myself free and at sea was damped by the news of the loss of the Cigale, and with it, of my father and Tim. The hope of seeing Tim again had kept me in heart during many a trouble and danger, and now I felt more alone than ever.
In the whole world, except Con the dog, there was left me but one friend; and she, if she ever thought of me, did so as of one below her, and already dead. But that I was young and clung hard to life, I would as soon have dropped over the side of the Arrow as anywhere else, and so ended the bad business of my little history.
In a day or two, however, as the wind freshened and the great Atlantic waves pitched the Arrow like a plaything from one to the other, my spirits began to rise once more, and the cloud on my mind gave way before the cheery influence of a seaman’s life.
One of the first things I discovered was that I knew far less about seamanship than I gave myself credit for. Sailing the Arrow was a very different business from sailing his honour’s lumbering tubs across Lough Swilly, and I had to own that I had a great deal to learn and very little to teach before I could call myself a complete sailor. Still, I was handy, and not afraid to lend a hand at anything, from holding the helm to cooking the mate’s dinner. And so, before many days were over, I had taken my place without much ado as one of the crew.
For a ship of that size, engaged in such a trade, a crew of thirty men was small enough. Most of them were foreigners, a few, like myself, Irish, and the rest English. The one thing that kept them all from quarrelling was the hope of plunder; and it was easy to guess that, in the matter of the stolen guns, although the credit of that achievement belonged to Captain Cochin alone, the men would not have agreed on this peaceable journey to France if they had not been promised a share in the fruits of the cargo when sold.
Captain Cochin found out that it is as hard to avoid the enemy’s ships when you do not want them as it is to fall in with them when you do.
We had been out nearly a week, beating about against fitful winds down the west coast of Ireland, when one evening just before nightfall we sighted land on our weather-bow, and between us and it a sail bearing down our way.
As far as we could make out the stranger was a cruiser, in all probability one of the government vessels at that time stationed off Bantry Bay, on the look-out for some of the foreign smugglers and privateers that made it their hunting-ground. The light fell too suddenly to enable us to see more, but Captain Cochin flew the English colours at his mast-head, and held on his course until night hid us completely.
Then we put out into the wind and ran for the open sea, and waited for the morning.
The short midsummer night left us little waiting; and as soon as day broke, the first thing we saw, within a league of us, and bearing right across our course, was the stranger in full chase. She was a brigantine fully armed, and carrying a great spread of sail, but to our surprise she flew not the English but the French colours.