The cutter
instantly lowered her square sail, and followed her example, continuing
to fire a gun every minute. All eyes were turned towards the frigate,
which was now on the port beam.
"We shall cross two miles to windward of her," the skipper said. "If
she keeps on her course, a quarter of an hour will do it, but she is
sure to notice the guns. The wind will take them down to her.
"Ah, there she goes."
As he spoke, a puff of smoke darted out from the frigate's bow. Her
sails fluttered, and her head bore round, until she was on the same
tack as the lugger.
The latter was now about equidistant from her two pursuers. The cutter
and the lugger were nearly abreast, but the former, being to windward,
could edge down. The frigate was three miles to leeward, but she was
fully a mile ahead.
"There is no way out of it," the skipper said bitterly. "In a light
wind we could run away from the frigate, but with this breeze we have
no chance with her. Look how she is piling on sail!"
The crew shared the captain's opinion. Some shook their fists and
cursed vainly at their pursuers, some stood sullenly scowling, while
the French portion of the crew gave way to wild outbursts of rage.
Rapidly the three vessels closed in towards each other, for the cutter
edged in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear off towards the
frigate again.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173