Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 2, February 1842 — John Shaqi
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 2, February 1842Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XX, No. 2, February 1842
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“Fear not! sweet coz,” laughingly said Annette, “Mr. Cavendish would
scarcely admit that any ship afloat could outsail THE ARROW, and you see
what a start we have in the race. Besides, you heard Captain Smythe just
now say, that, when night came, he hoped to be able to drop the enemy
altogether. Are they pursuing us yet Mr. Cavendish?”
“Oh! yes, they have been throwing out their light sails for the last
quarter of an hour—see there go some more of their kites.”
“But will not we also spread more canvass?”
I was saved the necessity of a reply by an order from the officer of the
deck to spread our studding-sails, and duty called me away. I left the
ladies in the charge of Mr. St. Clair, and hurried to my post. For the
next half hour I was so occupied that I had little opportunity to think
of Annette, and indeed the most of my time was spent below in
superintending the work of the men. When I returned on deck the chase
was progressing with vigor, and it was very evident that THE ARROW,
though a fast sailer, was hard pressed. Every stitch of canvass that
could be made to draw was spread, but the stranger astern had,
notwithstanding, considerably increased on the horizon since I left the
deck. The officers were beginning to exchange ominous looks, and the
faces of our passengers wore an anxious expression. One or two of the
older members of the crew were squinting suspiciously at the stranger.
The captain however wore his usual open front, but a close observer
might have noticed that my superior glanced every moment at the pursuer,
and then ran his eye as if unconsciously up our canvass. At this moment
the cry of a sail rang down from the mast-head, startling us as if we
had heard a voice from the dead, for so intense had been the interest
with which we had regarded our pursuer that not an eye gazed in any
direction except astern. The captain looked quickly around the horizon,
and hailing the look-out, shouted,
“Whereaway?”
“On the starboard-bow.”
“What does he look like?” continued Captain Smythe to me, for I had
taken the glass at once and was now far on my way to the cross-trees.
“He seems a craft about as heavy as our own.”
“How now?” asked the captain, when sufficient space had elapsed to allow
the top-sails of the new visiter to be seen.
“She has the jaunty cut of a corvette!” I replied.
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