A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British NavyCollingwood, Harry
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A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British Navy
Collingwood, Harry
Great Britain -- Fiction; Pirates -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
"On deck, both of you, at once!" I shouted, sending my voice down
through the open companion. "Never mind about the hatch; leave
everything as it is, for the moment, and clap on to these main
halliards; there is an alarm of some sort ashore, and if it happens to
be that they have discovered me to be missing, they will come off to
this felucca the first thing. Yes, and by Jove, if I am not mistaken
there is a boat shoving off already. Look, lads,"--as the two men came
tumbling up on deck--"is that not the sparkle of oars in the water,
there, right in the heart of that deep shadow?"
"Ay, sir, it do look uncommon like it, and no mistake--yes; that's the
sea fire shinin' to the stroke of oars, right enough," exclaimed Cutler.
"And they're comin' along as though they meant business, too! Mr
Delamere, it'd be a good plan, sir, if you was to jump for'ard and cast
that cable off the bitts while Tom and me here sees about mastheadin'
this here yard; there won't be so very much room to spare atween us by
the time that this here hooker's paid off and gathered way."
"You are right, Joe, there will not," answered I; and, dashing forward
to the windlass bitts, I proceeded to throw off turn after turn of the
stiff hempen cable that held the felucca to her anchor, until the last
turn was gone and the flakes went writhing and twisting out through the
hawse-hole; then, as the end disappeared with a splash I dashed aft and
rammed the tiller hard over to port--noticing, as I did so, that a large
boat, pulling eight oars, was less than a hundred fathoms distant from
us, and coming up to us hand over hand. Then, catching a turn of the
main-sheet round a cleat, I jumped forward again to where the two seamen
were dragging desperately at the halliard which hoisted the heavy sail.
"Put your backs into it, men," I cried, as I tailed on to the fall of
the tackle; "there is a large boat close aboard of us! It will be
`touch and go' with us, even if we are able to scrape clear at all."
Fiercely we dragged at the fall of the fourfold tackle that formed the
working end of the halliard, and at each pull the great, heavy, swaying
yard slid a few inches up the short, thick mast, as though reluctantly,
while away on our weather quarter we heard the fierce shouts of the men
in the approaching boat as they encouraged each other, punctuated by the
quick jerk of the oars in the rowlocks, and the swish of the water as
the oar-blades clipped into it. With the passage of every second those
menacing sounds drew appreciably nearer, dominating even the thunderous
rustle and slatting of the sail that slowly climbed into the air over
our heads, while the felucca, now fast gathering stern-way, and at the
same time paying off, was driving steadily down toward the boat at a
rate that seemed to render our capture inevitable.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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