Still the large ship was gaining upon us fast. A schooner is a species of vessel unfitted to scud before a brisk gale, like a square rigged ship, although in beating up to windward, we would most likely have the advantage. However, we spread every inch of canvas we could stretch out, and Captain Jem and myself both stood by the tiller. In an hour from the commencement of the chase, the Spaniard was not a mile astern of us; and truly, if the great ship had been a friend, she would have been a gay and a gallant sight—with her brave tall masts, and great sheets of canvas, which rolled from side to side, like a tower which totters in an earthquake, and her vast bows, all carved and encrusted with ornaments and devices, which would now plunge deeply into the brine, and then rise with the sea water pouring and flashing down, amid the sculptures and images of saints and long moulded and fretted ledges and serpentine projections of carved wood, which extended in gracious undulations on either side of the cut-water. But we had little mind to admire the cunning work of the Spanish artificers, although, unhappily, every moment we saw it plainer and plainer. Our men began to look pale and troubled, and spoke in whispers to each other, and some of them lay sullenly down upon the deck. Meanwhile, Captain Jem and I consulted together in a low voice, and presently hit upon a plan which would give us, at all events, a last chance. ‘Nicky Hamstring,’ said Captain Jem, ‘show the Don a sight of the flag which Sir Francis Drake carried against the great Armada.’ At this bold speech, the men seemed to pluck up a little. ‘What, boys!’ quoth brave Jem; ‘you do not mean to stretch out your throats to the Spaniard’s whittles?’ ‘Where is the use of preaching?’ cries one of the men. ‘If we don’t strike and heave-to, he will give us the stem, run his ship crash over us, and send us to the bottom before we can say a prayer.’ Captain Jem pulled out a great pistol and cocked it. ‘That was George Bell’s voice!’ he shouted. ‘Hark ye, you snivelling cur, say but another syllable of striking or heaving-to, and I’ll send you to hell with the word upon your lips. Comrades,’ continued the captain, raising his voice, ‘is it fit that brave men and staunch should listen to a hen-hearted skulk like the man who spoke?’ ‘No, no!’ cried the whole of the crew, ‘no striking; let the Dons do their worst.’ And at that moment the ensign of St. George fluttering up to the main-topmast head, we greeted it with a cheer, the echo of which came back from the broad sails of the Spaniard. ‘Now, men,’ said Captain Jem, ‘be steady and sharp, and in ten minutes we shall have the big ship’s weather-guage.’