One thing was certain, that she was not one of our squadron. Silently she glided up under our lee.
“Now give it her, my lads,” cried the admiral, and every gun from the starboard broadside was fired into the stranger.
Down came her fore-topmast by the run. Silence being no longer necessary, our crew gave a hearty cheer, hoping that we were about to tackle the stranger, but being under a press of sail, she shot past ahead, and so dense was the fog, that in a few seconds she had disappeared. We eagerly sought for her, but we searched in vain.
Next day, the fog having cleared away, the united fleets were discovered, but our admiral’s object was to avoid a regular engagement, as no good could thereby be attained, and he contented himself with cutting off first one and then another of the enemy’s ships.
“I know who tried to surprise us yesterday evening,” exclaimed Martin. “The tall ship with the Prince’s flag flying, and her fore-topmast gone, but she would have been surprised herself had she not slipped out of the way.”
At length the admiral gained information that another large Brazilian fleet was at sea, which, being of far more value than the empty hulls of the Prince’s squadron, we sailed in search of. After cruising about for several weeks, we heard that some of the Brazilian ships had taken refuge in Spanish ports, and that others were at the Azores. We accordingly sailed back to the Tagus. Scarcely had we arrived than a frigate with a flag of truce came to meet us, bringing intelligence that the corsair princes had left the river, and that the king of Portugal had sent an ambassador to England to sue for peace.
The admiral’s work in the Tagus being accomplished, we prepared for returning home. I mentioned that Lancelot and Dick had received letters from Lyme. Lancelot’s was from his father’s head factor, the other from Mr Harvey. They both gave us the same alarming intelligence which affected Lancelot as well as me. They told us that Mr Kerridge and his daughter, accompanied by Audrey and Mistress Margaret, her waiting-maid, had sailed in a hoy bound for Plymouth, at which place, to their dismay, they found she had not arrived. Some hours after leaving Lyme, a heavy gale had arisen, but it was calculated that the hoy might by that time have got into Plymouth, or run back for Lyme, or found shelter in some other harbour. Whether she had foundered, or run on the Eddystone or on some other rock, or had been captured by an enemy, no one could surmise, but that some sad disaster had happened to her there could be no doubt.
The news of course caused Lancelot and me great grief, in which our friend Dick heartily sympathised, as did Lieutenant Blake, who had when at Lyme been well acquainted with Mr Kerridge and Cicely and my sweet sister Audrey.
“Should the hoy have foundered, we must submit to God’s decrees; but should she, as is possible, have been captured, we will, as soon as we are at liberty, search the world over to discover the missing ones,” he said, as he wrung our hands, and told us how sincerely he entered into our feelings.