“Aye, aye, sir.”
“The strange sail is hauling up into the wind,” sung out the look-out.
“Ay—take the glass, Mr. Parker, and spring into the cross trees to see what you can make of her. All hands aloft—loose and sheet home fore and maintopsails. Merrily, there. How does she look, Mr. Parker?”
“She seems a heavy merchantman by her rig; ah! now her topsails lift, large and square, with a cross in them. It’s not the rig of a man-o’-war.”
“Ease off the sheet—man the lee-braces—hard down the helm.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said the quarter-master, as he whirled around the wheel, and the gallant craft danced lightly up into the wind, like a racer beneath the spur; while the men stood at their respective stations eagerly waiting the command.
“Round there, with the foretop-sail—haul in fore and aft—belay all!” came in quick succession from the quarter-deck, as we bowed before the breeze, and dashing the spray on either side our cutwater, went off almost dead in the wind’s eye. The sharp wind, as it sang through our cordage, and the momentary dashing of the sea across our bows, as we thumped against the surges, afforded a pleasant relief to the occasional creaking of the shrouds, or the dull monotonous sounds of the water washing lazily alongside, which we had been listening to for the last hour. The change had an exhilarating effect upon our spirits, which was perceptible as well among officers as among men. Besides, we were all eager for a prize. Every man, therefore, was at his station, and a hundred eager faces looked out from the forecastle, the tops, or wherever their owners chanced to be. The captain, too, was upon deck, scanning the stranger with a scrutinising eye.
“Can you see her hull yet, Mr. Parker?” he asked.
“No, sir—her courses show to the very foot—but here it comes—six ports on a side, sir, though they look like painted ones.”
“She’s setting her light sails.”