“Captain Olding is doing his duty, as he always does,” observed Norman Foley to Owen; “in spite of the great disparity of force, he will do his best to defend the convoy. See, he is signalling; what does he say, captain?”
Owen examined the signal-book. “‘Fleet to make all sail and steer for Jamaica’—that is what we are doing, though, and few of the vessels can carry more canvas than at present,” he answered.
Some, however, were seen setting royals and studding-sails. Every ship in the fleet pressed forward over the calm blue waters with all the sail she could carry. The sight was a beautiful one, as the canvas shone in the rays of the bright sun darting from a cloudless sky and Ellen likened them to swans of snowy plumage gliding over some inland lake. She felt less anxiety than did either Mr Foley or Owen, who saw more clearly the danger to which the Champion was exposed. Already the guns of the enemy were heard as they opened on their small antagonist, while she returned them with her stern-chasers.
“By the way the enemy are firing, their aim is to wing the Champion, and she’ll then, they hope, become an easy prey,” said the lieutenant to Owen. “They may be mistaken. Captain Olding is not the man to strike while he has a stick standing.”
Some time more passed by. The French gunnery may not have been very good. Still the Champion sailed on, not a mast nor a spar knocked away, though her canvas was riddled with shot. Should she be disabled, it was pretty evident that several of the merchantmen must be captured, and that the Ouzel Galley, crippled as she was, would be among the number. The proceedings of the Champion and the enemy were therefore watched with intense anxiety.
“There goes her main-topmast,” cried Owen, almost with a groan.
“I ought to be on board,” said Lieutenant Foley. “I must ask for one of your boats, Captain Massey.”
“You should be welcome, but not one of them can swim, nor could I spare you any of my hands; so I am afraid, sir, you must be content to remain on board the Ouzel Galley,” answered Owen. “Your presence could not change the fate of the day, and you would be made a prisoner by the French, instead of having a chance of escaping.”
The fire of the enemy now became hotter than ever, when Gerald, who had gone aloft, shouted, “Two ships in sight to the northward!”
“What are they like?” asked Owen.