“I can’t help thinking, sir, from her look, that this is the same craft that was lying off New Orleans two days ago,” I added, touching my hat to the captain. I don’t remember exactly what made me suppose this, but such I know was my idea at the time.
“What, your friend Captain Hawk’s craft, the Foam, you mean, I suppose?” he observed. “But how can that be? She was bound to the Havanah, and this vessel is standing away from it.”
“I can’t say positively, sir; but if you would take the glass and have a look at her, I don’t think you would say she is very unlike her, at all events,” I replied.
“It’s very extraordinary if such is the case,” said the captain, looking rather more as if he thought I might be right than before.
“Give me the glass, and I’ll judge for myself, though it’s impossible to say for a certainty what she may be at this distance.” Saying this he took the telescope, and in spite of the heat went aloft.
When he came down again, I observed that he looked graver than usual. He instantly gave orders to furl the awning, and to be ready to make sail as soon as the breeze should reach us. “The youngster is right, Mr Dobree,” he said, turning to the mate, and probably not aware that I overheard him.
“It’s that piccarooning craft the Foam; and Mr Hawk, as he calls himself, is after some of his old tricks. I had my suspicions of him when I saw him off New Orleans; but I did not think he would venture to attack us.”
“He’s bold enough to attack any one, sir,” said the mate; “but we flatter ourselves that we shall be able to give a very good account of him, if he begins to play off any of his tricks on us.”
“We’ll do our best, Mr Dobree,” said the captain; “for if we do not, we shall have but a Flemish account to render of our cargo, let alone our lives.”
I do not know if I before stated that the Susannah carried four guns—two long and two carronades; and as we had a supply of small arms and cutlasses, we were tolerably able to defend ourselves.