“I don’t like to heave-to, or we shall lose our chance of catching the Don,” observed Jack; “but this is getting rather too serious to be looked upon as a joke.” It was, indeed, for in another second, three or four more shot came crashing through the sails and against the spars of the schooner, one of which, the foretop-gallant yard, was shot away.
“We must signalise them, and beg them to be aisy,” cried Terence. “But, hillo, I say, Jack, who could have left that abominable flag flying at the peak?” There, sure enough, at the peak of the schooner flew out the often disgraced flag of Spain.
“We’ll haul it down, and settle that point afterwards,” said Jack, suiting the action to the word and hauling down the flag. He was but just in time to save the schooner from a tremendous peppering, which the frigate, now ranging close up astern, had prepared for her. Jack ran up the rigging nearest the frigate, and pointed ahead to show that he was chasing something; indeed, by that time the gig when looked-for must have been seen clearly from the deck of the frigate.
“I am glad we did not fire into you, my lads,” shouted Captain Lascelles through his speaking-trumpet. “You’ve done well—very well, but why did not you haul down the slaver’s flag?”
“We’d so much to do, we never saw it, sir,” shouted Jack in return. “There’s the slaver’s captain—we’re after him.”
“Stand in as close as you can, but don’t get on shore, though,” cried the captain.
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Jack, well pleased to follow the orders given.
The frigate stood on for some distance after the gig, but she had to be hove-to that the depth of water might be ascertained, and this gave the Don an advantage of which he did not fail to profit. Though guns were continually fired at him, the gig was too small an object at that distance to enable even the best of marksmen to hit her with any certainty. When the frigate hove-to, the schooner once more passed her. Nearer and nearer she drew to the shore.
“We must take care not to wreck our well-won prize,” observed Jack to Terence, and a lead and line having been found, he wisely sent a hand into the chains, to heave it as soon as he had rounded the schooner to. Well was it that he did so, for in a very few minutes more the schooner would have been on shore. It was provoking, however, to see the wicked old Spaniard pulling on triumphantly. They watched the gig as long as they could with their glasses. She disappeared amid a cloud of foaming surf, which seems ever, even in the calmest weather, to be breaking on that shore.
“The old fellow has escaped us now, but we will still have him some time or other—depend on that,” said Jack, shutting up his glass. “However, we have destroyed his barracoons, and now we’ve captured his schooner—that’s one consolation. He can’t love us, though.”