Mr Ormsby at once came on deck, and ordered all sail to be made to get up with her. The wind was light; the flames appeared to be rising higher and higher; we were afraid that we should be too late to render assistance to the poor people on board. Every stitch of canvas the schooner could carry was set.
“I would give a good round sum to be up with that vessel,” exclaimed Dicky Plumb. “A dreadful thing for them to be burnt alive or drowned.”
Several remarks of a similar nature were made; and certainly, if wishing or whistling would have brought us up to the vessel, we should have been there quickly enough. At length we could make out the masts and hull of a brig—a large vessel she seemed; the flames had caught her sails, and were playing round her spars and masts. Suddenly, as we gazed at her, the deck seemed to lift; like sky-rockets up rose the masts; the flames burst up brighter than ever from the hull; and then, like showers of rockets, down came the burning rigging, hissing, into the sea; after this the flames raged more furiously than ever; then, suddenly, there was perfect darkness; a groan escaped the breasts of many on board. We were too late to save any of the sufferers, still we stood on towards the spot where the vessel had been. Suddenly a hail reached us; we replied to it. In a short time we shortened sail, and a boat came alongside; we had little doubt that she contained some of the people from the brig; six men soon came up the side, most of them had their heads and arms bound up.
“Who are you, my men?” asked Mr Ormsby.
“I am the mate, sir, of the brig that just now blew up; we are the only people who have escaped,” said one of them. “This afternoon we were attacked by half a dozen Malay prows; we fought desperately, hoping to drive off the pirates; at length, the master and the other hands being killed, we jumped into the long-boat and made off, hoping to return to the brig when the pirates had left her; they, however, set her on fire, and we were intending to make the best of our way to Singapore when we caught sight of the schooner.”
The mate expressing his belief that the pirates had stood to the southward, all sail was made in that direction. The weather had been threatening for some hours; it now grew worse and worse. Mr Ormsby’s chief regret was that it might drive the pirate fleet into port. We made such good way, that soon after noon we caught sight of the vessels of which we were in search; they saw us, and guessed our intentions, and away they went before the wind. We stood on, hoping to come up with them; hour after hour passed by, and they kept ahead. The weather was getting more and more dirty; still we persevered, and, as the wind increased, we gained upon them.
“I think I could hit the sternmost of those fellows,” said Ned Rawlings, as he ran his eye along a gun.
The gun was trained forward. Rawlings, who was one of the best marksmen on board, fired. The shot struck the nearest prow, and sent the splinters flying away in every direction.
“Well done, Rawlings?” cried Mr Ormsby.
The gun was again loaded, when just as he fired a fearful crash was heard; the schooner shook from stem to stern.