Captain Dinan had hoped before this to haul up to the wind, but the increasing gale made this impossible. As, however, he was going out of his course, he only carried as much sail as necessity required. The stranger therefore came quickly up with the Amity. The captain now began to eye her very narrowly.
“I like not her looks,” he observed. “She is a war ship, and yet shows no colours.”
The captain asked his officers their opinion. They agreed with him. Bill Rullock, who was a man of experience, was called aft.
“I have little doubt about it,” he observed. “That craft’s a pirate, and we must keep clear of her if we would escape having to walk the plank or getting our throats cut.” Nearer and nearer drew the stranger.
“Rather than surrender we must fight to the last,” observed the sturdy captain. “Christison, Ford, which will you all do, gentlemen?” he asked, addressing the passengers.
“Verily, I will go below and hide myself,” said Ford. “It becometh not one of my creed to engage in mortal combat.”
“If you order me to work a gun, I will do so,” answered Wenlock. “Albeit peace is excellent and blessed, and warfare is accursed, yet I cannot see that it would be my duty to allow others to fight for the defence of my life which I will not defend myself; or, for lack of fighting, to allow myself or those who look to men to protect them,—the women and children on board,—to be destroyed by outlawed ruffians such as are probably those on board yonder ship.”