“No doubt that they wish to keep ahead of us, but whether or not we shall get up with them is another question, though, if the wind holds as it now does, we may do it.”
The commander and gun-room officers were fully as eager as Ned to overtake the dhows. They had, they thought, at length got some veritable slavers in sight, and it would be provoking to lose them. It was, however, curious that they should all keep together; probably, however, none of them wished to steer a course by which they would run a greater chance of falling into the power of their pursuer. Seldom had breakfast been disposed of more quickly by officers and crew than that morning. The dhows could now be seen clearly from the deck, proof positive that the corvette was sailing much faster than they were. Once headed, most of them might be captured, for the dhow can sail but badly on a wind, though no vessel is faster before it.
The lofty canvas of the corvette gave her an advantage over the dhows, whose sails occasionally hung down from their yards, almost emptied of wind.
“We shall soon get them within range of our long gun,” said the commander, as he stood eagerly watching the vessels ahead. “Stand by, Mr Hanson, to lower the boats; we shall be able to do so with this breeze without heaving to.”
“Is the gun all ready forward?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Aye, aye, sir,” was the answer. His practised eye assured him that the stern most dhow was within range of the long gun.
“We’ll make that fellow lower his canvas, and then see what cargo he carries,” said the commander. “Send a shot across his forefoot, and if that doesn’t stop him we’ll try to knock away that big yard of his. All ready there forward?”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Fire!”
The missile flew from the mouth of the gun, and was seen to strike the surface so close to the dhow as to send the spray over her low bows. Still she held on her course. The gun was run in and reloaded.