“Perhaps, after all, she is only a British man-of-war, which takes us for a slaver, or perhaps for an enemy’s cruiser; for the ‘Arrow,’ I flatter myself, doesn’t look like an ordinary trader,” observed Captain Magor.
“That may be, sir,” answered the mate, “but we are doing the wisest thing to keep out of her way; and, as you said, it’s better to do that and lose a day or two, than be snapped up by an enemy.” The captain ordered all hands to remain on deck at their stations, ready to shorten sail at a moment’s notice. I saw him frequently look astern, not so much at the stranger as at the appearance of the clouds.
“Do you think she is coming up with us, Captain Magor?” I asked.
“No doubt about that, though she is carrying less sail than we are. She has got a stronger breeze, and I am watching lest the wind should come down on us harder than our sticks can stand.”
A few minutes afterwards, as I moved to the fore part of the quarter-deck, where the boatswain was standing, the captain cried out, “All hands shorten sail!”
In an instant Tom’s whistle was at his mouth, and didn’t he stamp and shout.
“In with the studding-sails, my lovely lads; let fly topgallant sheets, my sweet angels. Haul down, trice up, my pretty boys.” Though what between the orders issued by the captain and mates, and repeated by him, with the howling of the wind and the whistling of his shrill pipe, the rattling and creaking of the blocks, and the fluttering of the sails, it was difficult for ears unnautical to comprehend the actual words uttered. All to me seemed hubbub and confusion. The men flew here and there, some going aloft, while others came tramping along the deck with the ropes. Even Captain Magor and the mates were pulling and hauling. Harry and I caught hold of the ropes they gave us, and ran along with them to gather in the fluttering canvas, which seemed as if it would be blown to shreds before it could be secured. As it was, a fore-royal was carried away and a studding-sail boom was snapt off. Before we had time to stow the lighter canvas the squall came down thick and strong on us. The order was given to clew up the courses and take a reef in the topsails. The wind, though coming off the land, quickly beat the ocean into wild tossing waves, through which the brig dashed forward with lessened sail, yet still with increased speed. A thick misty appearance, caused by a fine impalpable sand brought off the land by the squall, soon hid the stranger from sight. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” observed the mate; “and I hope we shall be in luck, and get out of the way of that fellow; I don’t like his looks, that I don’t.”
What Captain Magor thought about the matter he did not say. He kept the brig away, running as before, which showed that he considered the stranger was still in pursuit of us. Harry and I looked out for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Perhaps the squall took her unawares and carried away her masts; if so, and she is an enemy, we may thank the wind for the service it has rendered us,” observed the first mate.
“There’s little chance of that, I fear,” said Captain Magor. “When it clears up again we shall see her all ataunto, or I am much mistaken.”