Part 20 (1/2)

The brig was forthwith brought to the wind, the barge in a very short s.p.a.ce of time was launched and manned with a stout crew well-armed and provisioned, and she shoved off to perform her duty, while the ”Sylph”

followed the strange sail. The man-of-war had evidently an advantage over the stranger, for while the sea-breeze in the offing blew fresh and steady, in-sh.o.r.e it was light and variable.

On perceiving this, Captain Staunton kept his brig still nearer to the wind, and ran down, close-hauled, along the coast, thus keeping the strength of the wind, and coming up hand over hand with the stranger, who lay at times almost becalmed under the land. The breeze, however, before they came abreast of her reached her also, and away she flew like a startled hare just aroused from sleep.

”Fire a gun to bring her to,” exclaimed the captain; ”she shall have no reason to mistake our intentions.”

The British ensign was run up, and a gun was discharged, but to no effect. Two others followed, which only caused her to make more sail; and by her luffing closer up to the wind, she apparently hoped to weather on them, and cross their bows. She was a large schooner, and by the way sail was made on her, probably strongly-handed, so that there could be little doubt that she was the vessel for which they were in search.

”Send a shot into the fellow,” exclaimed the captain; ”that will prove we are in earnest, and make him show his colours.”

The shot clearly hit the schooner, although the range was somewhat long, but it did slight damage. It had the effect though of making him show his ensign, and the stripes and stars of the United States streamed out to the breeze.

”Those are not the fellow's colours, I'll swear,” said Mr Collins, as he looked through his gla.s.s. ”Another shot will teach him we are not to be humbugged.”

”Give it him, Collins, and see if you can knock away any of his spars,”

said the captain. ”We must follow that fellow round the world till we bring him to action, and take or sink him. He'll not heave-to for us, depend upon that.”

”Not if Daggerfeldt is the captain,” answered the first lieutenant.

”I think she is his schooner; but he is so continually altering her appearance that it is difficult to be quite certain.”

”Though I was some hours on board of her, as I reached her in the dark, and left her before it was light, I cannot be certain,” observed Captain Staunton, as he took a turn on the quarter-deck with his officer. ”By the by, there is that poor girl's black attendant; he will know the vessel at all events. Tell him to come up and give us his opinion.”

The lieutenant went into the captain's cabin, and soon after returned, observing,--

”He will not quit his mistress, sir; and the surgeon tells me he has sat by her side without stirring, watching every movement of her lips as a mother does her only child. As no one on board can speak his language but you, sir, we cannot make him understand why he is wanted on deck.”

”Oh, I forgot that: I will speak to him myself,” answered the captain.

”Keep firing at the chase till she heaves-to, and then see that she does not play us any trick. Daggerfeldt is up to every thing.”

Captain Staunton descended to his cabin. Juanetta lay on the sofa, a sheet thrown over her limbs, her countenance of a corpse-like hue, but by the slight movements of her lips she still breathed. The black hung over her, applying a handkerchief to her brow to wipe away the cold damps gathering there. Her features, though slightly sunk, as seen in the subdued light of the cabin, seemed like those of some beautiful statue rather than of a living being. The surgeon stood at the head of the couch, endeavouring to stop the haemorrhage from the wound.

”I dare not probe for the ball,” he whispered, as if the dying girl could understand him; ”it would only add to her torture, and I cannot prolong her life.”

”And this is thy handiwork, Daggerfeldt--another victim of thy unholy pa.s.sions,” muttered the captain, as he gazed at her for a moment. ”Poor girl, we will avenge thee!”

He had considerable difficulty in persuading Mauro to quit his mistress; but at length the faithful black allowed himself to be led on deck. He looked round, at first bewildered, as if unconscious where he was; but when his eye fell on the schooner, it brightened up, as if meeting an object with which it was familiar, and a fierce expression took possession of his countenance.

”Es ella, es ella, senor!” he exclaimed, vehemently. ”It is she, it is she--fire, fire--kill him, kill him, he has slain my mistress!”

A gun was just then discharged, the shot struck the quarter of the schooner, and the white splinters were seen flying from it. On seeing this he shouted with savage joy, clapped his hands, and spat in the direction of the slaver, exhibiting every other sign he could think of, of hatred and rage. Having thus given way to his feelings, the recollection of his mistress returned, and with a groan of anguish he rushed down below.

The two vessels had been gradually drawing closer to each other, in consequence of the schooner luffing up to endeavour to cross the bows of the brig, and if she could, to get to windward of her, the only chance she had of escaping. The eyes of the officers were fixed on her to watch her movements.

”She's about--all right!” shouted the captain. ”Give her a broadside while she is in stays, and knock away some of her spars. Fire high, my lads, so as not to hurt her hull.”

The brig discharged her whole larboard battery, and the fore-topmast of the schooner was seen tumbling below.

”By Jingo, we've dished him!” exclaimed Jack Hopkins, to his chum, Bob Short; ”and I'm blowed, Bob, if it wasn't my shot did that ere for him.