Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“I was about to propose it,” replied Talbot, and returning to Miss
Gillespie’s side, said, “summon your fortitude, Mary, the ship which you
admire so much, is a Spanish frigate, and is endeavoring to capture the
vessel we are in.”
“Oh, how unfortunate! and will they harm us? Can they hurt you and
father and Frank? Good God! what is that?” and she shrieked as the ship
luffed to the wind, and fired a shot, which went plunging across the
bows of the schooner.
“Come below, dearest! come quickly! Help me, Mr. Gillespie, for she has
nearly fainted.”
The maiden and her father were conducted to the most secure place below,
when, resisting the entreaties of his mistress, Talbot returned to the
deck, which Frank had refused to leave.
At the first report of the frigate’s gun, the captain had called out,
“Edge her away, quarter-master, keep her off a point; let the guns
alone,” he added, addressing some of the crew, “let them be, it would be
worse than useless to fire them—the ‘Bird’ must now trust to her wings
alone.”
The little vessel was in fact at the very crisis of her fate. The last
shot had told that they were within reach of the guns of the enemy; they
felt that their only avenue of escape was through a gauntlet of fire,
and that the loss of a single spar would certainly insure their capture.
It seemed perfect madness for such a wee thing to abide the wrath of the
huge leviathan, panoplied in thunder, and possessing almost the power of
annihilation. But, in the forlorn and desperate hope of sustaining the
enemy’s fire for a few moments, without material injury her captain
steadily pursued his way, but cut his anchors from the bow, and threw
four of his guns overboard. If the wind had been light, the schooner’s
chance would have been a fair one; but the breeze instead of lulling,
seemed to freshen as the sun went down. As it was, however, there was a
bare possibility of escape, for already the little vessel, lightened of
so much weight, began to increase her velocity—still there was an
abiding, a stunning fear of being sunk or disabled by the broadside of
the frigate. The latter had already opened her fire, and near the chase,
the fierce, iron hail had fairly lashed the water into foam, but the
schooner was yet materially unharmed, when a voice more potent than that
of gunpowder, hushed the loud artillery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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