“Why, the Frenchmen have shot away the ‘Thisbe’s’ foretopmast, as far as I can make out—her jury-masts, too,” answered Rawson. “The ‘Thisbe’s’ done for, I’m afraid.”
“What’s that you say, Rawson?” exclaimed Lieutenant Calder. “Done for! not she; she’s not done firing, at all events.”
Rawson said no more; still it was very evident that the “Thisbe” was again almost a complete wreck, while the Frenchman had her rigging comparatively uninjured. The firing on both sides began to decrease. Evening was now drawing on, the wind was increasing, and dark clouds were coming up from the westward. For several minutes not a shot had been heard. Flashes there were, but they were from the clouds, and heaven’s artillery now rattled through the sky. The combatants could now scarcely be discerned in the distance.
“The ‘Thisbe’ has struck,” cried Rawson. “I said it would be so. I knew I should never have such luck as to take a prize like this, and to keep our ship.”
“I don’t believe it,” exclaimed Mr Calder. “Captain Courtney would never have given in to the Frenchman without a harder tussle for it.”
“Perhaps Captain Courtney has been killed,” croaked out poor Rawson, who was very bitter at the prospect of losing his long-looked-for promotion, which he would have obtained as soon as the prize was carried into port. Tom Calder, too, had every reason to wish to escape the enemy, with the same object in view, and he was not a man to throw a chance away.
The wind was fair, and the coming darkness and the rising gale would favour their escape. He now clapped on every inch of canvas which could possibly be set, and did his utmost to keep up the spirits of his crew, rating Mr Rawson soundly for his expressing his forebodings of ill.
The wind increased, and howled through the rigging; the seas came roaring and hissing up alongside, as the frigate, driven onward by the gale, went surging through the foaming water.
Thus on she went for some time.
“If we had but our masts the enemy would have a hard job to come up with us,” observed Dicky Glover to Ronald. “As it is, I doubt whether she’ll find us, after all.”