Part 8 (2/2)
This time the mate had better luck, his second shot smas.h.i.+ng through the chart-room and completely wrecking it.
”That ought to bring them to reason,” he remarked complacently.
It did. Before the thin veil of smoke had drifted away a man was seen on the _Ann's_ stern, frantically calling up the _Hawk_ in the semaph.o.r.e code. A man on the privateer's bridge answered and then the other started to flap his flags about.
”Don't fire, stopping,” read the message.
The foam under the stranger's stern was subsiding and an arrow of white steam shot into the air out of her exhaust-pipe. Already the distance between the two vessels was rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng and soon they were within hailing distance. The skipper of the _Ann_ was the first to avail himself of this, for, making a funnel of his hands, he demanded to know what the sanguinary blazes was meant by this hold-up.
”I demand to see your papers,” bellowed Calamity.
The other appeared to execute a sort of complicated war-dance on the bridge, wildly waving his clenched fists above his head. No words came for a second or more, and then a burst of raw, pungent, and kaleidoscopic profanity hurtled across the intervening s.p.a.ce, evoking by its wonderful variety the admiration even of the _Hawk's_ crew.
”Blimey!” murmured Smith in an awed tone, ”it's a treat to 'ear a bloke handle cuss-words like that.”
Even Mr. d.y.k.es, who rather prided himself on his mastery of the refres.h.i.+ng art of invective, was moved to wonder. Indeed, he made a mental note of several vituperative combinations whose force and originality impressed him.
When, at last, the master of the _Ann_ paused, presumably for want of breath, the crew of the _Hawk_ looked expectantly towards Calamity.
Would he be able to rise to the occasion and wither his opponent by a scorching blast of even deadlier profanity, or would he humiliate them by using the commonplace swear-words of everyday life? He did neither.
”I'm going to board you!” he shouted. ”Make one attempt to hinder me and you go to the bottom.”
His words, backed by the guns which were trained on the _Ann_, brought an immediate reply:
”Come aboard if you must, but for the love of G.o.d don't sink me.”
”Fizzled out like a damp squib,” muttered Smith.
”I guess he's played his long suit,” remarked the mate, who also felt disappointed at the ign.o.ble collapse of the _Ann's_ skipper after such brilliant promise.
A boat was quickly lowered from the _Hawk_, and the Captain, before getting into it, gave Mr. d.y.k.es certain instructions.
”And remember,” he added, ”if you see any sign of trickery put a shot under her water-line amids.h.i.+ps.”
”Very good, sir,” answered the mate.
A few minutes afterwards Calamity had reached the deck of the _Ann_, where he was met by the Captain and the first mate.
”I demand an explanation of this outrage!” bl.u.s.tered the former. ”Are you aware that you are committing piracy? that----”
Calamity cut him short.
”I know perfectly well what I'm doing, or I shouldn't be here. Your papers, Captain.”
”By what right do you ask for my papers?” demanded the other, who showed signs of again becoming truculent.
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