“Hist!” I said to the boatswain, who happened that moment to be passing, “hist! do you hear that?”
The old fellow stopped, listened a moment, and then shaking his head, said,
“I hear nothing. What did you hear?”
“Hark! there it goes again,” I said, as the sound of a sail flapping against a mast came distinctly out of the gloom.
“By St. George, you are right,” exclaimed the old water-rat, “ay! ay! young ears are arter-all the sharpest!”
He had scarcely spoken before the tall masts of a ship, like a spectre rising through the night, lifted themselves up out of the obscurity in the direction whence the sound had proceeded, and instantaneously we heard the tramping of many feet on the decks of the stranger, the rapid orders of the officers, the running of ropes, the creaking of yards, and the dull flapping of sails in the wind. At the same time a voice hailed,
“Luff up or you’ll be into us,” and then the same voice spoke as if addressing the helmsman on board the stranger, “up with your helm—around, around with her—my God! we’ll be afoul.”
The consternation of the British skipper was not without cause. No sooner had Capt. Smythe discovered our proximity to the stranger, than he formed the determination of running her aboard, taking her by a sally of our brave fellows, and then, after throwing into her a party sufficiently strong to maintain possession of her, keeping on his way. During the minute therefore that elapsed betwixt the discovery of the merchantman, and the hail of her affrighted skipper, the boarders had been called away and the quartermaster ordered to run us bows on to the quarter of the stranger. Instead of luffing, therefore, we kept straight on in our course, and as a score of lanterns were instantly shown on board both ships, sufficient light was thrown over the scene to guide us in our manœuvre. As the English ship wore around, bringing the wind on her starboard quarter, our helm was jammed to port, and swinging around almost on our heel we shot upon the foe, striking her in the stern galley, which we crushed as we would have crushed an egg-shell. The English ship was heavily loaded, and in consequence our bowsprit ran high above her decks, affording a bridge on which our brave tars might easily pass on board. At the moment we struck, the captain dashed forward, and summoning the boarders to follow him, had leaped, sword in hand, into the centre of the enemy’s crew, before her skipper had ceased giving orders to the perplexed seamen, who were running to and fro on her decks, in the vain hope of preventing any damage resulting to them from this collision, with, as they thought, a sister vessel. The consternation of the master may well be conceived when he found his ship in possession of an enemy. For some minutes he imagined it to be a jest, for he could not conceive how any foe would have the audacity to cut him out from the very heart of the fleet. His rueful countenance when he discovered his error, I shall never forget, nor the bad grace with which he consented to be transferred with a portion of his men to the Aurora. In less than five minutes, however, this necessary precaution had been carried into effect, and a prize-crew left in possession of the merchantman. The officer in command was ordered to haul out of the fleet, and gain a position as speedily as possible to windward. Then the two ships were parted, and we stood away as before on the larboard tack, while the prize braced sharp up, hauled her bowlines, and went off close into the wind’s eye.
“By Jove,” said a reefer, elated with the part he had acted among the boarders, for he had been one of the first to step on the decks of the merchantman, “by Jupiter, but that was neatly done—eh! don’t you think so, Hinton, my old boy?”
“Shut your dead-lights, you young jackanapes,” growled the old boatswain, by no means pleased with such a salutation, “and keep your tongue for cheering against the enemy: you’ll have enough of it to do yet before you turn in. Avast! there! I say,” he continued, perceiving that the youngster was about to interrupt him, “go to your post, or I’ll report you, you young whelp. None of your blarney, as your thick-tongued Irish messmate would say—away with you.”