“What can the fellow be about?” said I; “he cannot hope to escape us.”
“Perhaps, sir, he sees a big friend ahead, whom he thinks will come to his assistance,” observed Grampus.
“We must give him another dose, then, to stop him before his friend appears. Fire low this time!” I exclaimed, for my blood was up at the thoughts of his escaping us. We yawed a little so as to bring all our starboard guns to bear. The shot took effect, and there appeared more confusion than before on deck. “Let them have it again,” I sung out; “this time they must give in!” The guns were loaded, and our people were about to fire, when, as I was looking through my telescope, I saw two figures rush on deck, and which instantly made me arrest the order to fire. They were women. By their gestures they were evidently endeavouring to persuade the crew to continue their endeavours to escape or to yield at once. Which it was I could not determine, but while they remained on deck I could not bring myself again to fire on the vessel. I hoped that we should be able to capture her without doing her further injury. On we stood, therefore, as before. The ladies remained on deck. I kept my eye on them, intending to fire at the schooner’s rigging the moment they went below. I told Grampus my reason for not firing. “That’s right, sir,” he answered warmly; “no man who’s fit to be a man ever hurts a woman if he can help it, whether old or young, or whatever her nation—or black or white. And they, d’ye see, bless their hearts, repays us; for no matter where it is, if a man is sick or wounded, or in distress, they are always ready to help him and nurse him and pity him—bless them, says I. I don’t know what we should do without them.”
The two ladies kept their posts, walking the deck, and every now and then stopping and eyeing us—taking our distance, I thought. We were rapidly decreasing it, however, and to me it appeared that the chase had very little chance of escaping. I must own that I was now doubly anxious to come up with her. All sorts of romantic ideas came crowding into my imagination, and I quite forgot that, after all, the petticoats might belong to the skipper’s double-fisted wife and rosy-cheeked, loud-voiced daughter. Still, whatever they were, I would not for worlds have run the risk of hurting them.
As time sped away the more eager did I become to solve the problem. When my eye began to ache with watching the chase, Nol took the glass. I had had my breakfast brought on deck. I ate my dinner there also. I was just washing down the cold salt junk and biscuit with a glass of rum and water, when Grampus exclaimed—
“The petticoats has wapperated, sir—that they has.”
I jumped up, overturning my glass of swizzle, and putting the helm to starboard, sung—
“Fire away, but high, my lads—take care, now.”
Grampus had handed me the glass and hurried to a gun. Never was there a better marksman. His eye coolly glanced along the iron tube. He fired. The schooner’s fore-yard was shot away in the slings, and directly afterwards her fore-top-mast went tumbling over her bows.
“Hurrah!” shouted Nol, “we’ve got her now, my lads.”