“We should have been in a bad plight, I suppose,” answered Nat. “I can’t help thinking that the commander was right in not letting us go as soon as we wished.”
The stormy weather continued for some time longer. Occasionally the wind ceased, but only again to blow with almost as much violence as before. Mr Foley and the master both acknowledged the commander’s wisdom in not allowing them to do as they had desired. The hurricane season must, however, come to an end, for it had apparently already lasted longer than usual, and the young lieutenant began to indulge in the expectation of soon returning to Jamaica.
Chapter Nineteen.
Two vessels appear off the island—One chasing the other—The sternmost supposed to be the Ouzel Galley—Firing heard at night—A calm—The boats put off—A breeze—The pirate escapes—Sound of an engagement heard—Belief that the merchantman has been captured—A boat prepared for a voyage to Jamaica—Just as she is starting, a vessel is seen at anchor inside the reefs—The boats push for her—The stranger fires at them—Is boarded and captured—Gerald’s dismay on discovering the “log of the Research, Captain Gerald Tracy”—Dillon found on board as leader of the pirates—He offers to pilot the Research into Tiger harbour—Commander Olding and his whole crew embark with guns, ammunition, and stores—The Research sails for the northward—A canoe, with five people in her, seen.
One morning Gerald and his constant companion, Nat Kiddle, had gone down just at daybreak to bathe in a pool on the beach, into which no hungry sharks were likely to enter. It was the only place where the commander would allow the men to go into the water, and they naturally preferred getting their swim before the rest of the ship’s company. They were somewhat earlier than usual, and after swimming about for some time had landed and were dressing, when Gerald, looking to the north-east, caught sight of a sail just rising above the horizon.
“Hurrah! I do believe she is standing towards the island,” he exclaimed, pointing her out to Nat. “She will see our signal and probably heave to, to know what we want. The chances are that she is a friend. No Spanish vessel would be coming from that direction, at all events, with the intention of attacking us. She is probably a man-of-war, or, if a merchantman, she is bound to one of the islands to the southward.”
“But she is as likely to be a foreigner as an English vessel,” observed Nat; “at all events, she must be greatly out of her course. If bound to Jamaica, she would have kept through the Windward Passage, or if bound to one of the Leeward Islands, she would not have come near this.”
The sun, now just rising above the horizon, cast a bright light on the topsails of the stranger, which must have discovered her to the look-out at the signal station, who immediately ran up the colours.