“Why, sir,” said Bowse, drawing the colonel, who had risen, a little forward, and whispering so as not, he thought, to be heard by Ada; “you see, sir, I don’t quite like the look of that craft we are nearing—some murderous work has been done lately in these seas; and I was told, just before we sailed, to be cautious of her—that’s all.”
“It was for that reason you were loading your guns, and getting up your arms?” exclaimed the colonel, in a less cautious voice than that in which the kind master had spoken. “Very right and proper. I’m glad to see precautions taken. We’ll fight the rascals with pleasure.”
Ada overheard the words, and coming up, placed her arm on her uncle’s.
“What is the matter?—Is there any danger?” she exclaimed, in a pleading tone. “If there is—oh! let me share it with you. Do not send me down into the cabin.” She trembled, but it was more with excitement than fear.
“Oh! nonsense, girl—suppose there was any danger, what object could there be in your staying on deck?” answered the colonel. “You couldn’t save me from being hurt, missie, and I don’t think you would manage to hurt any of the enemy, if there should prove to be one in the case, after all, which is in no way certain yet.”
While the colonel was speaking, Bowse again looked at the speronara. He now, to a certainty, ascertained that she had the dark mark in her foresail, and that she was full of men. This at once decided him in urging Miss Garden to go below, and on her still resisting, the colonel gave indubitable signs of anger.
“Come, come, missie, no more nonsense. Go below you must, without further delay, and take your little nigger with you.”
Ada pleaded for a few minutes more to see what was likely to happen, but in vain, and was reluctantly compelled, in company with her maid, to go into her cabin, there to await the result of the meeting between the two vessels. Ada did as every right-minded girl, under the circumstances, would do—she knelt in prayer—not through abject fear for her own safety, did she pray, for of herself she thought not; but she prayed that her uncle, and the brave men with him on deck, might be shielded from danger—a danger which it was very natural that from what she had heard she should considerably exaggerate.