“Ah, she does not like to come where she may meet honest people,” observed Van Graoul. “That looks suspicious.”
The boat was a large gig, pulled by six oars. She came in, we thought, to reconnoitre.
“Now, what do you think of seizing the boat, and holding the people as hostages till they deliver up the ladies?” exclaimed Fairburn. “If she is honest, we shall run the risk of being accused of committing an act of piracy; but if she is the Emu, our object may thus easily be obtained.”
“By all means; let us seize her. I would run every risk,” I answered.
“Yes; we will catch her, if we can,” answered Van Graoul.
Our boats were accordingly lowered and commanded. Fairburn commanded one, and Barlow another, and I took a third, with the intention of endeavouring to cut her off, and capture her without bloodshed. We lay in wait, eager for the word to shove off and go in chase. If we found that we were mistaken, there would be no harm done. The people in the boat would be a little astonished, and angry perhaps at being taken for pirates; but the importance of the object was worth the risk, and must serve as our excuse. We got a spring also on our cable, and every preparation was made to get under weigh in an instant, and to make sail in chase, should the brig appear to have taken the alarm. Van Graoul remained on board in command; and a hand was stationed aloft to watch the progress of the boat. Our intention was, not to seize her till the last moment before her people landed, or while half were in the boat and the others actually stepping on shore. On she came—those in her evidently either confident in their innocence, or unconscious of an enemy being near them. The hull of the schooner lay concealed from any one in the outer part of the harbour. Even were she seen, appearing to be quietly at anchor, with no one on her decks, she might, we hoped, fail to excite suspicion. As the boat advanced, we slipped round on the opposite side of the schooner to conceal ourselves from her sight. Her crew bent manfully to their oars. In a short time longer we hoped she would be in our power. The plan arranged was, that Fairburn and Barlow were to pull directly for her, while I was to proceed down towards the mouth of the harbour to intercept her, should she attempt to pull back before they reached her. At first, we hoped that her people would not suspect that we had any intention of interfering with them. She now had got so far up, that Van Graoul could see her from the deck; and he, with his glass in his hand, was the only person that appeared.
“She comes on bravely,” he exclaimed. “Pull away, my lads. Ah, you pull well! We shall soon know what you are made of.” He was silent for a moment. “Ah! she has ceased pulling!” he cried. “They are suspicious of something. Ah, they are pulling round! It is the Emu’s boat. Off they go again to the vessel. After her; and you may give way, my lads, in earnest.”
There was no necessity for another order; we shoved off in a moment, and the men bending to their oars, away we all three went in chase. At first, the stranger’s boat was pulling leisurely enough; but when we were discovered, her crew gave way with all their strength, as if their lives depended on it. This alone would have convinced us that the brig was the Emu; they probably suspecting the schooner to belong to the Dutch navy. As we dashed out, we now saw to our chagrin, that the pirate’s boat, for so I will call her, was ahead of us; that is, she was nearer towards the mouth of the harbour by the time we got into the fairway, while the brig, which had tacked, had now stood over to the opposite side to which we were. This gave her a great advantage. We cheered on our men, and they indeed gave way with a will. I never had felt so excited. My great object seemed near of attainment, should Eva and Mrs Clayton be on board the brig, and should we succeed in capturing the boat. Every nerve was strained to the utmost. I was influenced by the most powerful of feelings, and my crew zealously entered into them. The pirates were working for their liberties and their lives. The water flew hissing from the bows of the boat, and leaped in spray from the blades of our oars as they clove the surface.
“Give way, my lads! give way!” was the cry we all uttered. “Give way; we are gaining on them. Huzza! huzza!”
It was, however, a question whether we were really gaining on them. Our excitement made us fancy we were. We were armed all this time, it must be remembered; but we could not venture to fire on the boat, for although we had no doubt that the brig in the offing was the Emu, and that she belonged to her, we had not the proof the law requires. The moment Van Graoul saw the pirate’s boat turn tail, he slipped his cable, and, making sail, stood after us. We had thus two chances. If the boat got on board the brig before we could overtake her, we might still follow in the schooner with a prospect of success. The boat held her own. It became a matter of great doubt whether we should overtake her. An oar might break, or one of her crew might give in. If we could have fired, we should probably have stopped her, by wounding one or more people. As it was, we had our speed alone to depend on. “Give way! give way, my lads!” I heard Fairburn and Barlow shouting. “Huzza! we are gaining on them! huzza! huzza!”