When Lord Reginald came on deck at the commencement of the morning watch, the chase could still be seen, and he felt convinced that the Marie had gained upon her. This made him determined to hold on. The sky, however, gave indications of a change of weather. Dark clouds were gathering in the horizon astern, while the wind came in fitful gusts, sometimes falling so much that the sails flapped against the masts. As the sun rose, the whole sky was suffused with a fiery glow, which, reflected on the ocean, made it appear like a sea of burnished copper. As the sun rose higher the heat became almost unbearable, growing more and more oppressive.
“Does your lordship recollect that we are in the region of hurricanes?” asked Voules. “It would be prudent to shorten sail.”
“Not until the chase does, though. I wouldn’t for much lose the chance of coming up with her. If we hold on for another two or three hours, we can get her within range of our guns. We have been gaining on her faster than ever lately.”
“If the wind catches us and whips the masts out of the ship, the ‘holding on’ will do us little good,” replied Voules.
“Well, we will see about it by-and-by,” said Lord Reginald, who was on the point of going down below to breakfast, the steward having just announced that the meal was ready.
The midshipman Lucas was left in charge of the deck. Soon afterwards an old seaman, who acted as quartermaster, came up to him. Touching his hat, he said—
“Won’t you order the hands to shorten sail, sir? We can’t tell when we shall have the wind down upon us, and we shall be losing some of our spars, if no worse happens.”
“His lordship wants to come up with the chase first, though I should be glad to have some canvas taken in.”
Just then the look-out forward shouted, “The chase is shortening sail, and is hauling up to the northward!”
Lucas ran aft and shouted down through the skylight, announcing what had occurred. “Shall we shorten sail, too, sir?” he asked.