United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The little schooner kept plunging away through the heavy seas caused by
the gale, with her prize dragging astern. Grampus had got some sail on
her to help her along, but still she not only made us labour much, but
exposed us to considerable risk. This, under ordinary circumstances, I
should not have minded, and of course, except in the case of the last
necessity, I would not have thought of casting her adrift to look after
herself. Night came on, and still there was no chance of the gale going
down. I was much relieved by O'Driscoll ranging up alongside and
hailing me, promising to stay by the prize should I be compelled to cast
her off. Still, as I had taken her, I naturally wanted to have the
satisfaction of bringing her in. As the darkness increased, the gale
blew heavier and the sea ran higher. Still, fortunately, we were able
to keep our course. Hour after hour passed away, the little vessel
plunging bows under, and dragging away lustily at her heavy prize. I
felt that she was straining very much, and on sending below I found that
she was making more water than she ought to have done. Still I held on
with the Crab, hoping that the gale would break. At last it seemed to
have moderated a little, so I left the deck in charge of Rockets, and
descended into the cabin to offer what comfort I could to its fair
occupants. I asked leave to enter. Mrs Tarleton's voice assured me
that I was welcome. I found both ladies sitting on a sofa which I had
lashed close to the table. A swing lamp hung from above. They had
books before them, and were attempting to read. I doubt if they had
made much progress. I told them that I thought the gale was breaking,
and that we might have fair weather again before the morning.
"I trust so, indeed," said Miss Carlyon. "It appeared to me that we
have been in very great danger; even now the vessel seems dreadfully
agitated, though my aunt assures me that such storms are constantly met
with at sea."
"She is right, I assure you," said I. "There is no danger that may
alarm you."
Just as I spoke there was a loud report. Both ladies shrieked.
"Oh, what is that?" exclaimed the younger. "What can have happened, Mr
Poynder?"
"Parted the hawser, which was towing the prize," I answered hurriedly.
"Let me entreat you: do not be alarmed, whatever happens. We shall have
probably to lie by her all night. With daylight we may make her fast
again."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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