Part 30 (1/2)
The commander was in his cabin studying the chart of the coast of North Carolina; but the report was promptly sent to him, and he hastened on deck.
”Another sail on the port bow, sir!” shouted a seaman who had been sent to the fore cross trees with a spy-gla.s.s.
”What are they?” asked Christy, maintaining his dignity in spite of the excitement which had begun to invade his being.
”Both steamers, sir,” replied the officer of the deck.
”The head one is a blockade-runner, I know by the cut of her jib, sir,”
shouted the man with the gla.s.s on the cross trees.
All the gla.s.ses on board were immediately directed to the two vessels.
Christy could plainly make out the steamer that had the lead. She was a piratical-looking craft, setting very low in the water, with two smoke stacks, both raking at the same angle as her two masts. The wind was not fair, and she could not carry sail; but the ”bone in her teeth”
indicated that she was going through the water at great speed.
”A gun from the chaser, sir!” shouted the man aloft.
The cloud of smoke was seen, and the report of the gun reached the ears of all on board the St. Regis.
”There is no mistaking what all that means, Mr. Baskirk,” said Christy when he had taken in the situation.
At the first announcement of the sail ahead, the commander had ordered the chief engineer to get all the speed he could out of the s.h.i.+p. The smoke was pouring out of the smoke stacks, for the St. Regis had two, and presently she indicated what was going on in the fire room by beginning to shake a little.
”Another sail dead ahead, sir!” called the man on the fore cross trees.
The gla.s.ses were directed to the third sail, and she proved to be a steamer, also pursuing the one first seen. It was soon evident to the observers that the blockade-runner, for the man aloft who had so defined her was entirely correct, was gaining all the time on her pursuers. If she had nothing but her two pursuers to fear, her troubles were really over.
Both of the Federal s.h.i.+ps were firing at the chase; but they might as well have spared their powder and shot, for they could not reach her into at least a quarter of a mile. The wind was still at the south-west, and already there were signs of fog. The rakish steamer had probably come from the Bermudas, where she must have obtained a skilful pilot, for without one she would have had no chances at all; and she stood boldly on her course as though she had nothing to fear on account of the navigation.
”What are we going to have for weather, Mr. Makepeace?” asked Christy, after a long look to windward.
”It looks a little nasty off towards the sh.o.r.e, sir,” replied the second lieutenant. ”I should say it was going to be just what that pirate would like to have.”
”Why do you call her a pirate?” asked the commander with a smile.
”Probably she is not armed.”
”I call her a pirate because she looks like one; but I think a blockade-runner is a hundred degrees better than a pirate; and our British friends plainly look upon them as doing a legitimate business.
I rather think that highflyer will run into a fog before she gets to the sh.o.r.e.”
”She has nothing to fear from the two steamers that are chasing her,”
added Christy. ”We are to have a finger in this pie.”
”No doubt of that; and I hope we shall make a hole through her before she gets to the coast.”
”She is not more than a mile and a half from us now, and our mids.h.i.+p gun is good for more than that; but I don't think it is advisable to waste our strength in firing at her just yet.”
”That's just my way of thinking,” said Mr. Makepeace, with something like enthusiasm in his manner; and he was evidently delighted to find that the commander knew what he was about, as he would have phrased it.