“It is plainly visible,” said the captain, after a long and anxious search with a glass, to the young passenger we have described, who was standing by his side.
The person addressed raised his own glass and swept the water in the direction named. After one or two unsuccessful trials, his eye caught the object.
“What do you make of it?” he asked.
“Unless I am greatly deceived, sir, there is a full-rigged vessel under sail approaching us.”
The young man was silent for a few moments. He cast a cautious glance over the crew, who were anxiously regarding the approaching vessel, that was gradually becoming more and more distinct, and at length could be seen with the naked eye. She was a sloop, her tall and symmetrical spars rising against the sky in beautiful tapering lines, her sails set, and making rapidly toward them from the southward, the wind being fair from that quarter.
“A fine vessel,” said the passenger, addressing the captain. “I should take her to be Spanish built.”
“It is quite an unusual thing to see a Spanish vessel in these parts,” replied the captain, lifting his glass again. “She shows no colors,” added he, as he looked through it. “I cannot make out of what country she is.”
At that instant, without hoisting colors or hailing, two shots were discharged from the sloop, one of which glanced across the bows of the brig, and ran dipping into the water, while the other went through her sail.
The captain replied by hailing the sloop through a speaking-trumpet, and demanding what she was, and wherefore she was guilty of this unprovoked hostility.
The only answer he received was the command, in a stern voice, “Down with your sails, and we will presently show you who we are.”