“Sir Ludar,” she said, “I thank you for letting me hold the helm this night. You gave it me as the place of safety; but I had my revenge, since it proved the post of honour.”
“It was indeed the post of danger,” said Ludar. “Had you swerved and not held straight on, we might not have been here to honour you for it. But say, did none of the Englishman’s shot reach the poop?”
“Some of it. Witness the sail there and the rail and the stern windows; but it spared me.”
“I think,” said Ludar, “we maimed them in one of their masts in passing, and their bowsprit broke short when it touched our stern. I doubt if we shall find them following us.”
“As for our Hollander,” said the poet, who had been wondrous silent thus far, “he hath this night proved himself twice a prophet. He said we should win this race; he said, moreover, I should live to write another ode. And lo! he spoke true. By your leave, Captain, I will go celebrate this notable occasion in a strain worthy of it and to the glory of my fair Amazon who—”
“Go below and cook this company some pottage,” said Ludar, “and see you be not long over it.”
Whereat the poet, with the muse taken out of him, departed. We stood watching the dawn till there was light enough to look back on our night’s work. There was the Englishman with her main-mast gone, and draggled about the bows, beating up under reefed sails for the coast. It was plain to see, although we were two long leagues away, that she had had enough for one night and was going to leave us in peace. For myself, as I looked, I could not wholly glory in having thus flouted her Majesty’s flag; but I considered that we had run that night for our lives, so I hoped the sin would be forgiven me.
And now, when we come to look round us, we found the wind still running high, and shifting a point or so to the eastward, promising a stormy day. So Ludar bade us shorten our canvas and put out our ship’s head a bit, so as to give the coast a wide berth.
And, in truth, as the day wore on, the wind freshened into a gale, and the gale into a tempest, so that if we had promised ourselves relief after the perils of last night, our hopes were dashed. The sea, which so far had been easy, ran now high, and washed over our prow as we stood across the wind, and it was plain we were going to find out before long of what mettle our brave timbers were.
’Twas no light thing to face a night like this, even with a good crew—how much less with but four men and a maid? Yet I never saw Ludar more at his ease. In the danger of last night his face had been troubled and his manner excited. Now he gave his orders as if this were a pleasure trip on a quiet lake.