She was steering a course seemingly parallel with our own, and as I watched her my brains went to work to conceive in what possible way I could utilize her presence.
At all events, the first thing I had to do was to make sail, or she would run away from us; so I at once called up the watch.
Whilst the men were at work the dawn broke, and by the clearer light I perceived that the vessel was making a more westerly course than we, and was drawing closer to us at every foot of water we severally measured. She was a noble-looking merchantman, like a frigate with her painted ports, with double topsail and top-gallant yards, and with skysails set, so that her sails were a wonderful volume and tower of canvas.
The sight of her filled me with emotions I cannot express. As to signalling her, I knew that the moment the men saw me handling the signal-halliards they would crowd aft and ask me what I meant to do. I might indeed hail her if I could sheer the Grosvenor close enough alongside for my voice to carry; but if they failed to hear me or refused to help, what would be my position? So surely as I raised my voice to declare our situation, so surely would the crew drag me down and murder me out of hand.
Presently Fish and Johnson came along the main-deck, and while Fish entered the cuddy Johnson came up to me.
"Hadn't you better put the ship about?" he said. "You're running us rather close. The men don't like it."
Seeing that no chance would be given me to make my peril known to the stranger, I formed my resolution rapidly. I called out to the men—
"Johnson wants to 'bout ship. Yonder vessel can see that we are making a free wind, and she'll either think we're mad or that there's something wrong with us if we 'bout ship with a beam wind. Now just tell me what I am to do."
"Haul us away from that ship—that's all we want," answered one of them.
At this moment the carpenter came running up the poop ladder, with nothing on but his shirt and a pair of breeches.