“Marry! a bright look-out. We must have eyes of a different nature to most men to pierce through this dense mist,” quoth Martin, laughing.
Still, such a look-out as was possible was kept, the captain hoping ere long to see one of the Prince’s vessels, and to learn from her where the rest were to be found. At length, about noon, the sun made an effort to burst through the thick veil which shrouded us. Soon afterwards the mist lifted for an instant ahead, and during that instant I saw what appeared to me the hull of a ship, the canvas just rising above it; but it was only a glimpse, and it needed a sharp pair of eyes to discern any object a few fathoms off. I pointed her out to Lancelot, but he was doubtful whether I had actually seen a vessel, and no one else appeared to have observed her. The frigate therefore stood on, and unless the stranger which I supposed I had seen was sailing at equal speed, we must have passed her to leeward. Presently the wind blowing stronger, the fog once more lifted, and the sun bursting through, it fell on the white canvas of a tall ship close aboard us to windward.
Putting up her helm, she came nearer, when the captain hailed through his trumpet, supposing her to be one of Prince Rupert’s squadron. The answer was not heard, but the question, “What ship is that?” came down clearly to us.
“The Charles,” answered the captain, again putting the same question.
Scarcely had he spoken than we heard the words, “Strike to the Parliament ship, Constant Warwick!” and, the mist clearing still more, we saw flying from her peak a white flag with a red-cross.
“We are caught in a trap, and must fight to get out of it,” exclaimed the captain, ordering the drums to beat to quarters.
The men rushed to the guns, which they were well accustomed to handle; but before they could cast off the lashings and run them out, a broadside from the Constant Warwick came crashing into us, several of the crew being struck to the deck to rise no more. With scant ceremony their shipmates hove the bodies overboard, while the gunners, running out their pieces, returned with interest the fire of the other frigate.
I prayed that neither my friends nor I might be killed or wounded, though we ran as great a risk as the rest. I felt thankful when we were all three ordered down to the magazine to bring up powder, for below the risk of being hit was less, though neither of us felt any cowardly fears.
Having brought up the powder, we were ordered to sit on the tubs until it was wanted. We could thus see what was going forward, though we would far rather, I must confess, have been below. Captain Blackleach, a brave fellow, to give him his due, seemed in no way inclined to strike while he had a chance of getting off. The Constant Warwick’s fore-yard was soon shot away, and her main topmast shortly afterwards fell, on which our corsair crew cheered lustily, and with redoubled vigour plied their guns. I looked round to see how it was faring with my friends, Dick and Lancelot. They were seated on their tubs, Dick making himself as small as possible, so as to have less chance of being hit. A short way off stood Martin Shobbrok among the sail trimmers. Just then two of the gunners fell, their heads shot off, and their brains scattered over the deck. The captain, seeing what had occurred, shouted to Martin and another man to take their places. Martin stood with his arms folded, as if he did not hear the order. The captain again shouted to him.
“I’ll do a seaman’s duty, but will not fight against those who have justice and right on their side,” answered Martin.