Murray, seeing that the schooner had now got way on her, dived below. Not a minute after, a crash was heard. He, followed by Jack, sprang on deck, when they saw a large dark hull, with a pyramid of canvas, rising above the deck, over the after part of which a long projecting bowsprit made a rapid sweep, tearing a hole through the mainsail, and carrying away the leech. They both instinctively sprang aft to the helm, the man at which had been knocked down. In another instant the schooner was clear, and the stranger had disappeared in the darkness.
Jack, taking the helm, kept it up, for the blow had brought the vessel to the wind, while Murray hastened to ascertain what damage had been done.
“She has only torn away our bulwarks, sir,” cried Ben. “Try the well,” said Murray.
Ben reported—
“She’s making no water, but I don’t know what she may do when we go on t’other tack.”
“Clear the boats ready for lowering,” exclaimed Murray.
That on the port side, however, was found to have been carried away, with the davits, and now hung crushed to pieces, held by the falls. The darkness prevented all the damage which had been done from being discovered for some time. Adair had remained a minute behind his friends, to quiet the alarm of the ladies, who were naturally somewhat agitated at hearing the sound caused by the collision. He now sprang on deck, just as Murray was ordering a boat to be lowered.
“Here, Desmond,” he sang out, “lend me a hand at the after falls.”
“Hold on!” cried Murray; “there’s no necessity for lowering a boat. There’s no great damage done, after all, I hope; though it would have been the same to that big fellow, for no one on board him even hailed to know whether we required assistance.”
The breeze was every instant freshening. The schooner heeled over to starboard.