“The ship’s standing in toward the light, sir,” reported the cockswain of the cutter, as the party was still lingering around the table, as if unwilling to bring so pleasant a meal to a close. “Since the mist has broke away, we see her, sir, even to her ports and dead-eyes.”
“In that case, Sam, she can’t be very far off,” answered Wallace. “Ay, there goes a gun from her at this moment, as much as to say, ‘what has become of all of my boats.’ Run down and let off a musket; perhaps she will make out to hear that, as we must be rather to windward, if any thing.”
The signal was given and understood. A quarter of an hour later, the Poughkeepsie began to shorten sail. Then Wallace stationed himself in the cutter, in the centre of one of the passages, signalling the ship to come on. Ten minutes later still, the noble craft came into the haven, passing the still burning light, with her top-sails just lifting, and making a graceful sweep under very reduced sail, she came to the wind, very near the spot where the Swash had lain only ten hours before, and dropped an anchor.
| [1] | In the palmy days of the service, when Robert Smith was so long Secretary of the Navy, the ship’s whisky went by this familiar sobriquet. |
[To be continued.
THE STRATAGEM.
A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE.
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