He handed the glass to Rucker and swore impatiently.
"If we have half an hour more of this wind we're gone up," he growled. "Our only chance is a fog."
A puff of smoke belched from the port bow of the warship.
"They understand what that fog might do for us as well as we do," remarked Rucker, as a shell exploded some distance to leeward. "They'll get the range in a few minutes, and when one of those twelve pound bombs explodes in our tops——"
"They see that solid shot won't do," interrupted Gary fiercely. "It is quick work they are after."
Down in the hold the labored pitching of the schooner was adding seasickness to the sufferings of the poor wretches there. Doleful cries resounded, among which one at all conversant with their language would have heard calls for water predominate.
At night, when darkness reigned, the misery of such a scene would be augmented.
Several shells were fired by the cruiser, each one coming nearer to the mark, until at last an explosion just forward of the foretopmast shivered a double throat block, and down came the foresail, the leech trailing in the sea as it fell.
Another piece of the shell tore off a sailor's arm, and still another disabled one of the boats.
Orders from the captain came thick and fast; men flew hither and thither to repair the damage; while the wounded man lay writhing and neglected for some time. The Adams all at once slowly yawed, being within easy range, as the Wanderer lay helpless with her nose in the wind's eye.