Vanderdecken stared aloft at his canvas, then over the side, and joined the others. My excitement was intense; I could scarce contain myself. I knew there was a British squadron at the Cape, and 'twas possible that fellow there might be on a reconnoitring or cruising errand.
"You are sure she is English?" Imogene whispered.
"She is a man-of-war; she is flying our flag. I don't doubt she is English," I replied.
The girl drew a long tremulous breath, and her arm touching mine—so close together we stood—I felt a shiver run through her.
"You are not alarmed, Imogene?" I exclaimed, giving her her Christian name for the first time, and finding a lover's sweetness and delight in the mere uttering of it. She coloured very faintly and cast her gaze upon the deck.
"What is going to happen?" she whispered. "Will they send you on board that ship—keeping me?"
"No! they'll not do that. If she be an Englishman and has balls to feed her cannon with——" I cried, raising my voice unconsciously.
"Hush!" she cried, "Van Vogelaar watches us."
We were silent for a space that the attention I had challenged should be again given to the ship. During the pause I thought to myself, "But can her guns be of use? How much hulling and wounding should go to the destruction of a vessel that has been rendered imperishable by the Curse of Heaven? What injury could musket and pistol, could cutlass and hand-grenades deal men to whom Death has ceased to be, who have outlived Time and are owned by Eternity?"
Vanderdecken, who had been taking short turns upon the deck with heated strides, stopped afresh to inspect the ship, and as he did so another flash broke from her weather-bow, and the smoke went from her in a curl. The skipper looked at the others.