Soon the wooded banks fell away on either side, and the water changed its tint of amber for wind-roughened green. The gray, purple, and brown shores of the roadstead widened and dropped lower, and azure uplands shone beyond their frowning brows. The wind freshened, and white flakes of foam whipped from crest to crest across the ever-shifting, ever-vanishing valleys of green. Along the fading cliffs white sea-birds circled and settled like flakes of snow. A few great gulls winged around the ship, fleeing to leeward like bolts of mist, and beating up again with quivering pinions.
Kingswell had taken the duties of sailing-master upon himself. He was as good a deep-sea navigator as any man on the whole width of the North Atlantic. When the outer bay was reached, yards were swung around, and the stout bark headed due east at his orders. To see old Tom Bent push the tiller over, and other seasoned mariners man brace and sheet, at the command of that gold-haired youth, made the heart of Beatrix Westleigh flutter with pride. Her dark eyes, already bright and lovely beyond power of description, shone yet more brightly; and her cheeks, already flushed to clear flame by the wind, deepened their glow. As the ship answered to his will, so would he answer to her whim. It was a pleasant reflection to the lady; and to realize it she called softly. Without a glance at the straining sails, he turned and hastened to her side.
The voyage from Fort Beatrix to the wonderful harbour and brave little town of St. John's was made without accident, though not without incident. In Bonavista Bay, at a gray hour of the morning, the stump of a great iceberg was narrowly avoided. A day later, a large vessel that was evidently employed at fishing evinced an undesirable interest in the business of the Heart of the West. She was not a quarter of a mile distant when first sighted, for a light fog was on the water. She flew no flag, and changed her course and altered her speed with sinister promptness. Kingswell, and every man of the ship's company, knew that pirates of many nationalities infested those waters during summer. The worst of the thieves were Turks; and the fishing-ship or store-ship that was overhauled by those gentry usually lost more than its cargo. Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Spaniards also had a weakness for playing the part of the bald eagle, with their heavy metalled and wide-sailed craft, to the rôle of the fishhawk so unwillingly played by the merchantmen. Happily for Kingswell's command, the stranger was inshore and to leeward. Both watches were piped up by Tom Bent. The gunners went to their quarters. Sail after sail unfurled about the already straining masts and yards. The brave little ship answered willingly to the pressure, and her cutwater broke the flanks of the waves into sibilant foam.
A rumour of the chase reached Mistress Beatrix and her old maid, in the seclusion of that snug cabin in which Master Trowley was, at one time, wont to revel. Maggie Stone drew the curtains across the thick glass of the after-port (as if fearing that the eagle glance of one of the pirates might pierce the privacy of her retreat), and then devoted herself to tearful prayer. Beatrix completed her toilet, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and climbed the companion. She joined Kingswell by the tiller, and, after saluting him tenderly and with a composure that took no heed of the sailor at the helm, watched the chase with interest.
"They outsail us," she said, presently.
Kingswell nodded. "But she'll never get near us on that course," he replied. "She is for heading us off, and getting to windward. If she gets to windward of us—Lord, but I scarce think she will."
He said a word of preparation to the man at the tiller, and then gave a few quick orders from the break of the poop. In half a minute the Heart of the West headed out on an easy tack. When every sail was drawing to his liking, he returned to the girl.
"How glorious!" she cried. "A good horse, a singing pack, and an old fox make but slow sport compared to this."
"We are the fox on this hunting morning," smiled Kingswell.
"With teeth," she hinted.