Chapter Twenty Nine.
A shipwreck.
The Lily had been continuing her cruise in the Caribbean Sea for some days without falling in with the Ariel, or any other English ship-of-war, nor had she taken a prize. Oliver Crofton had completely recovered. As one of the midshipmen was ill, he took his duty. Our hero and Oliver soon became fast friends, and they were well able to appreciate each other’s good qualities.
Commander Saltwell, not looking upon the Frenchmen he had picked up in the light of prisoners, wished to put them on shore as soon as possible. He resolved, therefore, to stand in towards the coast of San Domingo, the western portion of which island belonged to France, and to land them at some settlement where they could obtain assistance.
The Lily was still off the east end of the island, belonging to Spain, when a schooner was sighted running along the shore, apparently endeavouring to escape observation. The wind, however, headed her, and she was compelled to tack off the land.
“She’s French, to a certainty, or she would have run in and brought up somewhere,” observed Mr Horrocks.
The commander agreed with him. The ship was steered so as to cut her off. On seeing this, the schooner wore, and, setting a large square sail, ran off before the wind to the westward. Though the stranger evidently possessed a fast pair of heels, the Lily, making all sail, soon got near enough to send a shot skipping over the water close under her counter. The schooner, notwithstanding, still held on, when another shot almost grazed her side. Her object was probably to run on until she could steer for some port where she could obtain shelter and protection.
“If she doesn’t shorten sail presently, send another shot through her canvas, Mr Coles,” said the commander.