Chapter Twenty Eight.
Ronald joins the “Imperious”—Chase of a Felucca—The Marquis de Medea—The Spanish Priest—Ronald astonishes the Priest.
The “Imperious” had been some time in the Mediterranean. She had not been idle, nor had her crew; that was not likely under such a captain as Lord Claymore. She had been up the Levant, and cruising among the Ionian Islands, and then back to Gibraltar, and had returned to Malta; and her blue-jackets and marines had landed on the Spanish and French coasts, and, as they had done before on the Biscay shores, had captured forts, destroyed barracks, and other public buildings, and burnt a town or two, and cut out merchant-men and armed vessels of all sorts; indeed, had done as much mischief as they possibly could. In all these proceedings Ronald Morton had greatly distinguished himself, and his captain promised him that he would not rest till he had obtained for him his rank as a commander.
Morton was in better spirits than he had been for a long time. He was as ready as ever for any daring exploit, but he had no desire to throw his life away if he could help it; he had a fancy that there was something worth living for. The good Lord Collingwood so highly approved of the proceedings of the “Imperious,” that he sent her back, after her return to Malta, to continue the same sort of employment.
On the passage, when not far off Minorca, a large felucca was sighted, which, from her manoeuvres, was evidently anxious to avoid the frigate. Lord Claymore had received directions from the admiral to look out for a craft of this description, which was known to be a pirate, and to have committed innumerable atrocities. Chase was instantly made. The felucca on seeing this, and apprehending danger, rigged out her tall tapering lateen sails, wing-a-wing, as it is called, one on each side. She appeared like a graceful sea-bird, and did her utmost to escape. She sailed so well that there seemed a great possibility that she might effect this. The “Imperious,” like some huge bird of prey, followed in her wake, resolved on her destruction. As yet the felucca was beyond the range of the frigate’s bow-chasers. One shot from those long guns striking her masts or slender spars, would effectually have stopped her flight. Over the blue waters she flew; the officers and crew of the frigate were watching her.
“She has an evil conscience, or she would not fly so fast,” observed Glover.
“Very likely; but like other rogues, she will escape the punishment she deserves,” answered Hardman. “The wind is falling, that is in her favour.”
“Not if it fall altogether; we may take her with the boats,” remarked Morton. “There is every sign of a calm.”
“She has sweeps, and it is extraordinary the rate at which these craft can pull,” observed the pertinacious Hardman. “She has every chance of getting away from us.”