Just then a voice forward shouted out, “A sail on the lee bow!”
There is always something exciting in this cry at sea. Storms and calms grow wearisome after a bit, but the interest that clusters about a vessel met on the broad deep never loses its freshness. The captain went for his telescope, and, after a brief inspection, announced the vessel to be a large barque going the same road as themselves. Mrs. Ashton asked leave to look through the telescope, and a good deal of coquettish bye-play took place; for, first she shut both eyes, and then she couldn’t see at all; and then she shut the eye that looked through the telescope, and, keeping the other open, declared that she could see better without the glass. Then the telescope wouldn’t keep steady; so Mr. St. Aubyn went upon his knees and begged her to use his shoulder for a rest. At last, after an infinity of trouble, and when the cramp was just beginning to seize the actor’s legs, she obtained a glimpse of the barque as it swept through the field of the glass, and owned herself delighted and satisfied.
The “Meteor” came up with the stranger hand over fist, keeping to windward of her; and soon she was no farther than a mile off, a big hull high in the water, bare and black, with round bows and a square stern. They hoisted the ensign on board the “Meteor,” but the barque showed no colours.
“Some sour North Countryman, I reckon,” said Captain Steel. “She has a Sunderland cut.”
She was under full sail, but just when the “Meteor” got abreast of her, she clewed her royals up, down came the flying and outer jibs, and the topgallant yards.
“What is she afraid of?” exclaimed Captain Steel, gazing at her curiously.
You could see the pigmy figures of the men clambering up the rigging, and presently down fell the topsail yards and up went more figures, and the spars were dotted with heads. Anything more picturesque than this vessel—her black hull rolling majestically, her white sails vanishing even as you watched them, her rigging marked against the cloudy sky, the sense of the noisy activity on board of her, of which no faintest echo stole across the water, and all between, the tumbling cloud-coloured waters—cannot be imagined. The crew of the “Meteor” watched her with curiosity; but she now fell rapidly astern, and in a short time could be seen clearly only by the telescope, which Captain Steel held to his eye, speculating upon her movements.
The dinner-bell rang. It was now the first dog-watch. Thompson, the second mate, came on deck, and the passengers went to dinner. The sunlight had a watery gleam in it as the lengthening rays fell upon the skylight, and Holdsworth’s eyes constantly wandered to the sails, which were visible through the glass. The skipper was in high humour, and during dinner laughed at the barque they had passed for shortening sail under a blue sky.
“I’ll wager a hat,” he exclaimed, “that she’s commanded by a Scotchman, even if she don’t hail from a North British port. I don’t mean to say that your Scotchman’s a timid man, but he’s unco’ thoughtful. My first skipper was a Sawney, and every night, as regularly as the second dog-watch came round, it was ‘In royals and flying-jib, and a single reef in the mizzen-top-sail.’”
“But there must be some reason for the barque furling her sails,” said the General.