“That I will not, sir!” exclaimed the first lieutenant warmly, and Mr Brine was not the man to neglect such a pledge.
“Never fear, lads,” said Paul Pringle; “the Captain carried us clear with about as great odds against us once before, and he’ll do it again now if the breeze holds fair.”
“But suppose it doesn’t, and those thundering big Frenchmen manage to get alongside of us, what are we to do then?” asked a young seaman who had lately been impressed from a merchantman.
“What do, Dunnage?—why, fight them, man!” answered Paul briskly. “You don’t suppose, do you, that we should do anything else till we have done that? We may knock away their spars, or maybe a shift of wind may come, or a gale spring up, or we may give such hard knocks that the enemy may think us a bad bargain. At all events, the first thing a man-of-war has to do is to fight.”
In a short time it was seen that the two frigates took the lead, and that one of them was much ahead of the other. “All right,” said Paul when he perceived this, “we shall be able to settle with one before the other comes on.”
The officers, however, knew well enough, as in reality did Paul, that a vessel much inferior in size might so far cripple them and impede their progress as to allow the more powerful ships to come up. Still the Ruby was well ahead when the sun went down. As twilight rapidly deepened into the gloom of night, the spirits of all on board increased. A light was now shown at the cabin window. There was no moon, and the night became very dark. Meantime, a cask had been prepared with a bright light on the top of it. The loftier sails were handed, the cask was lowered, and at the same instant the after-ports were closed. The light was seen floating brightly and calmly astern. The helm was then put down, the yards braced up, and the frigate stood away on a bowline close-hauled to the westward.
For some hours she tore on with her hammock nettings almost in the water; but it was a race for freedom, and what Briton would not undergo any risk for that? No one, not even the idlers, thought of turning in. Dawn came at length. Eager and sharp eyes were on the lookout at the mastheads, but not a sign of the enemy was perceived. Once more the helm was put up, and the frigate stood to the north-west.
Never did a ship’s company turn to at their breakfast with more hearty goodwill than did that of the Ruby. The only person missing at his mess was Gregory Gipples; and this convinced Tim Fid that he must have thrown himself overboard. True Blue and Harry Hartland, however, differed with him, and argued the point. “If he was such a coward and so afraid of shot, surely he would not deliberately go and destroy himself,” said they.
Fid insisted that his great fear of being shot made him dread less the idea of drowning.
“He wasn’t quite such a fool as all that,” said Harry. “Here comes Sam Smatch. Let’s ask him what he thinks about it.”