“Please tell them, Mr Gerrard, that if they cry out or attempt to play any more tricks, we must shoot them,” said Reuben. “And now we’ll go and look for the squaresail.”
The sail was found and bent on, and, Paul going to the helm, O’Grady and Reuben managed to set it. The vessel felt the effects of the additional canvas, as she drew out more from the land, and rapidly glided past the different vessels in the roadstead. There were only two more. One of these, however, they were compelled to pass uncomfortably near.
“When we are clear of her, we shall be all right,” said O’Grady, looking back, and seeing nothing following. “She looks like an armed vessel—a man-of-war perhaps; but it won’t do to go out of our course; we must chance it.”
They stood on. Although they were now some distance from the land, the old tower continued blazing up so fiercely, that a strong light was still thrown on their canvas. Being between the suspicious vessel and the light, they were abreast of her before they were seen. Just then a hail came from her, demanding who they were, and where they were bound.
“Answer, Gerrard, answer!” cried O’Grady.
But he did not tell him what to say; so Paul put up his hands and shouted, “Oui, oui; toute vite!” with all his might.
“Heave-to,” shouted the voice, “and we will send a boat aboard you.”
“Very likely,” said Paul; and so he only cried out as before, “Oui, oui, to-morrow morning, or the day after, if you please!”
As a vessel running before the wind cannot heave-to at a moment’s notice, the sloop got on some little distance before any attempt was made to impede her progress. Another hail was heard, and after the delay of nearly another minute, there was a flash from one of the stranger’s ports, and a shot came whizzing by a few feet astern.
“If any of us are killed, let the others hold on to the last,” cried O’Grady. “We are suspected, at all events, and may have a near squeak for it.”