Miss Kitty looked very pale, not from fear of herself, but she dreaded the danger to which those on deck would be exposed.
The wind increased and the sea got up: still we carried on, though our masts and spars bent and cracked. The sails were wetted—hammocks were slung, and men with shot got into them—indeed, every device was used to increase the speed of the ship. After a time, we appeared to be holding our own, if not drawing a little ahead of the enemy.
As evening approached, the wind dropped, and we could see the sails of the frigates hanging against the masts. Ours soon afterwards collapsed, and we lay perfectly becalmed. Some of the men forward expressed their opinion that the Spaniards would attack as with their boats.
“Little fear of that,” said Dick; “they know us too well to wish to come to close quarters. We should have a much better chance of taking them, if we were to try it. I don’t know if the captain will think of doing that.”
Darkness now came down upon us and shut out the enemy from sight. The captain might have expected an attack to be made on us by the frigates’ boats, for he ordered a bright look-out to be kept. Boarding-netting was triced up; the men wore their cutlasses at their sides and pistols in their belts, and pikes were placed ready for use.
Miss Kitty had come on deck, and, seeing me at a little distance, called me to her.
“If there is to be more of that dreadful work, you must come and stay with me, Charley, as before,” she said. “I cannot let you risk your young life; you must promise me now.”
I did so, though unwillingly.
“When will this fearful fighting end?” she said, sighing. “Though men seem to delight in it, I am sure that it is against all Divine laws, and brings misery and suffering to both parties.”
“I hope that we shall escape fighting this time,” I observed; “for Dick says that he is sure the Spaniards will not attack us. Perhaps before the morning we shall be able to get away from them.”