“Oh, don’t talk so, Fid!” answered Gipples, looking very yellow. “What’s the use of it? We don’t see the enemy.”
“No, but we very soon shall,” said Fid. “Just let the mist lift, and there they’ll be as big as life one on each quarter, so that every shot they fire will rake us pretty nigh fore and aft. Our Captain’s not a man to give in, as you well know; so we shall soon have our sticks a-rattling down about our heads, and the round-shot whizzing by us, and splinters flying about, and arms and legs and heads tumbling off. How does yours feel, Gipples? It’s odd a shot has never come foul of it yet. Howsomdever, you can’t expect that always to be. But never mind, old fellow. I’ll tell the old people at home how you died like a true British sailor; and if you have any message to your old chums, just tell me what to say.”
Thus, with an ingenious talent at tormenting, Tim Fid ran on, till, from the vivid picture he drew, poor Gipples was fairly frightened out of his senses. Tim was just then called off by the boatswain. When he came back, Gipples was nowhere to be seen. The crew had been sent quietly to their quarters without the usual beat of drum. Gipples ought to have been seated on his powder tub, but he was not. He had been seen to go forward. Fid looked anxiously for him. He did not return.
A considerable time passed. No Gipples appeared, and Fid felt sure that he must have slipped purposely overboard.
Still Fid was not as happy as usual. True Blue asked him what was the matter. He told him of his fears about Gipples. Indeed, the unguarded powder tub was strong evidence that he was right in his surmises. Another boy was ordered to take charge of the tub, and nobody but Tim thought much more about the hapless Gregory.
The wind had gradually been increasing, and at length it gained sufficient strength to sweep before it the banks of heavy mist, when the loud sharp cry of the lookouts announced five sail right astern, and some five or six miles distant. As they could be seen clearly from the deck, numerous glasses were instantly pointed at them, when they were pronounced without doubt to be enemy’s ships.
They also saw the frigate, and instantly bore up in chase. Had they all been line-of-battle ships, the swift-footed little Ruby might easily have escaped from them; but two looked very like frigates, and many of that class in those days were superior in speed to the fleetest English frigates.
All sail was made on the Ruby, and she was kept due north. “We may fall in with one of our own squadrons, or we may manage to keep ahead of the enemy till night, and then I shall have no fear of them,” observed the Captain as he walked the quarterdeck with his first lieutenant.
“We shall soon see how fast the Frenchmen can walk along after us,” answered Mr Brine. “I hope the Ruby won’t prove a sluggard on this occasion; she has shown that she can go along when in chase of an enemy.”
“Even should the two frigates come up with us, we must manage to keep them at bay,” said the Captain. “I know, Brine, that you will never strike as long as a hope of escape remains.”