“If we are captured what will happen?” asked Norah.
“I suppose we shall be carried into a French port, and be kept prisoners till the war is over, and you and I must learn to talk French. It won’t be so very bad, after all, so you needn’t look so grave, Norah,” answered Gerald.
“It will break our poor father’s heart, I fear,” answered Norah, “and Owen will be miserable.”
“Well, then, though wishing it won’t exactly help us, we’ll hope to escape, and that none of the dreadful things you expect will happen,” said Gerald.
Though Gerald made light of the matter, others on board did not do so. From the first Owen had had little doubt that the ship chasing them was French. The captain differed from him, but agreed that she was probably a privateer. Though her masts raked, so did those of many British ships, especially of those sailing from Jersey and Guernsey, while there was nothing that he could see remarkable about the cut of her sails. The second mate expressed no opinion. After a time, however, a cloud was seen to gather on his brow.
“I thought you boasted of this craft being remarkably fast,” he observed to Owen. “Now, as far as I can judge, that ship yonder is sailing nearly two feet to our one, and will be within hail of us before dark.”
“She sails faster than we do, I acknowledge; but you over-estimate her speed,” answered Owen. “I still expect that we shall keep well ahead of her till dark, and we may then alter our course and escape.”
“I tell you your hopes are vain; yonder ship is as fast a craft as any out of a French port—we haven’t a chance of escaping her,” replied Mr Carnegan.
“You know her, then?” answered Owen.
“I have seen her more than once—before the war broke out, of course—and, from her size and the weight of her metal, if we attempt to fight her we shall be sent to the bottom,” was the answer.