Chapter Twelve.
Punishment interrupted—Preparations for action—Boat off the enemy—A confession—I am proved to be innocent—Capture two prizes—Ordered home in one of them—Deserted by our consort—Spring a leak—Mutiny of prisoners.
“Strip!” said the captain.
I prepared to lay my shoulders bare to receive the lash.
“The Indiamen to windward are signalling to us, sir,” shouted the signal midshipman, turning over the pages of the signal-book. “An enemy in sight on the weather-beam.”
“Master-at-arms, take charge of the prisoner; punishment is deferred,” cried the captain, springing on to the poop.
I was led below. I almost wished that the punishment was over. I had nerved myself up to bear it, dreadful as it was, without flinching. Now I knew not for how long it might be postponed, but I had no hopes of escaping it altogether.
In another minute, the stirring cry of “Prepare ship for action!” was passed along the decks. Every one in a moment was full of activity. The cabin bulk-heads were knocked away, fire-screens were put up, the doors of the magazine were thrown open, and powder and shot were being handed up on deck.
For some time I was left alone, with a sentry only stationed over me. I longed to be set free. I trusted that I was not to remain a prisoner during the action which it was expected was about to take place. I thought that if I could but send a message to the captain, and entreat that I might be allowed to do my duty at my gun, he would liberate me while the action lasted.