We, as before, outsailed them, proving that the Fraulein was the fastest vessel of the two; and yet no one on board but believed that the Emu would again escape us. She stood boldly in towards the shore, evidently well acquainted with it. We followed, with the lead going; there was, however, a good depth of water. When she had got within a quarter of a mile of the coast, she ran along it, and we kept after her. A headland, running a long way into the sea, appeared before us; she rounded it, and was concealed from our sight by the trees which covered it to the very edge of the water. We stood on, expecting again to see her, when we also had got round it. We had almost reached it, when, by standing too close in, we got becalmed, and for half an hour made but little progress. This we knew would, of course, give the Emu a great advantage. At last, however, the breeze again filled our sails, and we were able to get round the point. As we did so, we saw the brig a long way ahead, now standing somewhat off the land. We continued the chase, and quickly made up for the distance we had lost. This day was, however, far spent, and it was already growing dusk before we approached her. My heart beat quick with the expectation of what was to occur. When we got her within range of our long gun, we began to fire at her rigging, more effectually to prevent her escaping. To our surprise, instead of returning the fire, or standing away from us, she rounded to and backed her main-top-sail till we ran alongside.
“There is something odd here,” remarked Van Graoul; “I cannot make it out.”
“Nor I,” said Fairburn. “There is some treachery, I fear.”
“What brig is that?” I asked, through the speaking-trumpet.
“The Neversink, John Jenkins, master, from Boston, with a cargo of notions,” was the answer.
“Lower a boat, and come on board, then,” I hailed.
There was apparently some little demur; but soon a boat was lowered, and with four hands in her, and a man in the stern-sheets, she came alongside. The man, without hesitation, stepped on board, followed by three others. By the light of a lantern, held to show him the way, he seemed a decent, respectable sort of a person, dressed in the usual costume of a merchant skipper, with a swallow-tailed coat, and a straw hat.
“Well, I calculate I have made a mistake,” he exclaimed, squirting out a stream of tobacco juice, when he found himself confronted by Fairburn, Van Graoul, and me. “I thought I was on board a Dutch man-of-war schooner; but you won’t be hard upon a poor fellow, now, will you, gentleman? The cargo is all mine, and it’s worth but little to you; and if you take it, or anything happens to me, I shall leave my disconsolate wife and small family destitute—I shall indeed.” And Captain Jenkins began to cry and wring his hands.
“Why, pardon me if you don’t like the term, but I took you for pirates, gentlemen—pirates and robbers.”
“Dat is a good joke,” said Van Graoul; “why, we thought you were de same. And I am not quite certain that he is not,” he whispered in my ear.