"Pull away cheerily," said the captain to the men in the boats, who had lain on their oars in readiness.
Slowly the Dart emerged from her hiding place—the sails were squared round so as to present their broad surfaces to the wind, and away she darted in swift pursuit, like an eagle in quest of his prey. A stern chase is proverbially a long one; so it proved in this instance. The wind was light, and although we hung out every rag of sail, the sun was sinking beyond the sea when we approached within gun-shot of the rover. Not a soul could be seen on her decks,—she was worked as if by magic.
"Mr. Ramrod," said the captain, "clap a round shot into the long-tom, and let us see if we cannot make them show some signs of life."
Benjamin loaded the gun, and having got it poised to his fancy, applied the match. Away whizzed the iron messenger. The chips flew from the stern of the rover, and a swarm of grizzly heads, belonging to bona fide bodies, popped up above the bulwarks, and then settled down again, like so many wild sea-fowl disturbed in their nests.
"Well done, Benjamin!—I see you have not lost any of your skill for lack of practice."
The pirate, at length finding it impossible to escape us, shortened sail.
"Now my men," said the captain, "to your duty!—let every gun be double-shotted—a round shot and grape!"
By a well-timed manoeuvre, we ranged up under her stern. Our men stood with their arms extended, ready to apply their lighted matches.
"Fire!" thundered Satan West.
A storm of flame burst from our side, and the Dart reeled half out of water under the recoil of the overloaded guns. The iron shower raked the pirate fore and aft, hurling those deadly missiles, the splinters, in every direction, and doing terrible execution on their decks. Two more such broad-sides would have sent her to the bottom.