The brig was steering south-east directly for Guadaloupe, and we followed in the same direction; but as there were numerous islands in her course, she might, if she could retain her distance ahead till dark, escape by keeping round them, or if hard pressed, run on shore, when the French officers would probably endeavour to forward the information they were conveying by some other vessel. She was, as I have said, very fast, and she was now carrying every stitch of canvas she could set. The Liffy was no laggard, and we pressed after her. The chase was as exciting as it could well be. Scarcely any of the officers left the deck, except to take a hurried breakfast, and every glass on board was in requisition. Now, when the breeze freshened, we appeared to be gaining on her; now, when it fell, she seemed to draw ahead of us. We passed between the islands of Saint John and Tortola; we sighted the east end of Santa Cruz, and then made out the curious conical hill of Saba, to the north of Saint Eustatia. Noon had passed, and the wind again freshening, we gained rapidly on the chase. The look-out aloft hailed that he saw several sail right ahead. It was a question whether they were English or French. If the latter, the brig might lead us under their guns, and it was necessary to be cautious. Dubois must have seen them also, but probably was as uncertain about their character as we were. He might, after all, be captured should he stand on. At length he altered his course, and appeared to be making for Saint Eustatia, and from this it was pretty evident that he took the fleet ahead to be English. Whether he was right in that respect or not we could not tell, but he made a mistake in hauling his wind. In another half hour we got near enough to send a shot, which fell aboard him; another and another followed, when, letting fly his head sheets, he put his helm to starboard, and hauled down his colours. We at once hove-to. A boat was lowered, and I, being able to speak French, was sent with Mr Harvey to take possession. We were soon alongside. Dubois must have recognised me when in the boat. As we stepped on deck he and La Touche advanced, and presented their swords to Mr Harvey, at the same time each of them made me a very formal bow. I returned it, and said, as I stepped forward—
“What is the meaning of this, Monsieur Dubois? You have made a gallant attempt to escape. It’s the fortune of war that you have failed; but why do you treat me as a stranger? I wish to behave towards you as old friends, and will do all in my power to help you.”
“We do not desire the friendship of one who has been guilty of such an act as you have committed,” answered Dubois stiffly.
“What act do you speak of?” I asked, suspecting, however, to what he alluded.
“You were trusted. You made your escape, and carried off the despatches,” he answered.
“I had a right to make my escape, for I had not given you my word to remain,” I said. “I did not carry off the despatches, nor did I instigate any one to do so. You’ll find that I speak the truth.”
“I have, then, to beg your pardon,” said Dubois, with French politeness, though he looked doubtfully at me.
There was little time for conversation, however. Mr Harvey desired the two French officers to prepare for going on board the frigate. “I understand that you have some English seamen on board. Where are they?” he asked.
“Two of them lie there,” said Dubois, “and the third, in trying to swim on shore, was seized by a shark. We are well rid of them, for they were mutinous rascals.”
I looked forward; there, on the deck, lay Dan Hoolan and the other mutineer. A shot had struck him on the chest, and nearly knocked the upper part of his body to pieces, while it had cut his companion almost in two, but I recognised his features, grim and stern, even in death. One of the French seamen had also been killed, and his countrymen, without ceremony, hove his body overboard. Mr Harvey ordered our men to dispose of the mutineers in the same manner, and to wash down the deck, for the sight was not such as any of us cared to look at longer than was necessary. Dubois and La Touche, who had gone below to get their valises, now returning with them, stepped into the boat, and Mr Harvey left me in charge of the brig. I felt somewhat elated at finding myself on board the craft of the command of which I had been so suddenly deprived, and began to hope that I was to retain it. I resolved, at all events, should any of the Frenchmen be left in her, to be careful that they didn’t again take her out of my hands.