Chapter Twelve.
The Salee Rover and the British Corvette.
As we lay at our anchors off Salee, we had a view from the mast-head of the open sea, over a point of land which ran out below the town. Snug as we were, it was one day blowing a heavy gale outside from the northward. Dark clouds chased each other across the sky, and the ocean—black and gloomy—was sprinkled over with white-topped seas. I was engaged aloft about the rigging, when I observed a sail to the north-west staggering along with as much canvas as she could carry. So rapidly did she make her way through the water, that I soon perceived that she was a brig, and that she was standing towards the harbour. The reason of her carrying so much sail, with so heavy a gale blowing, was soon explained. Two or three miles astern of her came a large ship, with all her topsails set, evidently in chase. The latter, better able from her size to bear a heavy press of sail, was coming up with her rapidly. On seeing this I hailed the deck, and the captain, and Mr Carr, and Peter, and others, soon came aloft to watch the progress of the chase.
“I make it all out clearly,” exclaimed the captain, after watching the state of affairs through his glass. “That craft is the very rover which plundered this vessel, or exactly like her; and the ship is a British man-of-war corvette, which is in chase of her. I can make out the English ensign clearly. The rover hopes to get into port before the guns of the corvette can be brought to bear on her; and that’s just what I hope the rascal won’t be able to do.”
“But that’s the very craft Stenning is said to be on board,” observed Mr Carr. “Poor fellow, it will go hard with him when the corvette’s guns begin to play on the brig.”
“I wish that we could run out and bring her to action, so as to give the corvette time to come up and take possession,” said I to Peter, who was near me.
“If the weather were moderate we might do it; but, with this gale blowing, I doubt if even our captain would run the risk,” he answered. “Besides you see, Jack, all the people we have had anything to do with here would get into a great scrape if we played such a trick to one of their vessels. Yet I tell you, lad, I would like the fun amazingly. The villains don’t deserve any mercy at our hands.”
While Peter and I were discussing the subject, so were the captain and Mr Carr. They gave up the idea of running out to meet the rover, as thereby they would have but little chance of saving the life of Walter Stenning, if he was still on board. By this time, both the brig and ship had drawn close in-shore, and every movement could clearly be observed with the naked eye. Poor Jacob Lyal had come aloft; and as soon as he recognised the brig, he was nearly falling on deck, overpowered with all the dreadful recollections her appearance conjured up.