At this instant, one of those sudden puffs of wind, to which I have already alluded, momentarily swept away the fog from around the approaching ship, and we beheld, to our astonishment, that her sails had been backed, and that she was slowly falling astern of us, as if with the intention of slipping across our wake, and going off to windward.
“Fill away again, there,” thundered the lieutenant, perceiving their manœuvre, “or I’ll fire on you—fill away, I say.”
“By the holy aposthles,” said O’Shaughnessy at this moment, “isn’t there a schooner’s mast, on the lee-quarter of the fellow—yes—there it is—see?”
Every eye was instantly turned in the direction to which he had pointed. A single glance established the keenness of his vision. Right under the weather quarter of the merchantman, might be seen the mast of apparently a small schooner. The sails were down, and only the bare stick could be discerned; but the whole truth flashed upon us as if with the rapidity of lightning.
“The ship is in the hands of pirates,” I exclaimed involuntarily, “God help the poor wretches who compose her crew.”
“Boarders ahoy!” sung out the voice of the captain, breaking, like a trumpet-call, upon the momentary silence of the horror-struck crew, “muster on the forecastle, all—up with the helm, quarter-master—ready to grapple there—heave,” and the huge irons, as we bore down upon the ship, went crashing among her hamper.
The instant that discovered the true nature of our position, worked a change in the whole appearance of the merchantman. Her deserted decks swarmed with men; her silence gave place to shouts, oaths, and the clashing of arms; and after a momentary confusion, we saw, in the obscurity, a dark group of ruffians clustered on the forecastle, awaiting our attack.
“Boarders ahoy!” again shouted Captain Stuart, brandishing his sword on high, “follow me,” and springing into the fore-rigging of the merchantman, he levelled a pistol at the first pirate attempting to oppose him, and followed by a score, and more, of hardy tars, rushed, the next instant, down upon her decks.
“Stand to your posts, my men,” thundered the pirate captain, as he stood by the main-mast, surrounded by his swarthy followers, “stand to your posts, and remember, you fight for your lives—come on,” and drawing a pistol from his belt, he levelled it at the first lieutenant, who, pressing on, aside of Captain Stuart, received the ball in his side, and fell, apparently, lifeless on the deck.
“Revenge! Revenge!” thundered the Captain, turning to cheer on his men, “sweep the miscreants from the deck, on—on,” and waving his sword aloft, he dashed into the fray. The men answered by a cheer, and bore down upon the pirates with an impetuosity, doubly more vehement from their desire to avenge the fallen lieutenant.