Leonard Lindsay ; $b or, the story of a buccaneerReach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
General
Leonard Lindsay ; $b or, the story of a buccaneer
Reach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
Buccaneers -- Fiction; Historical fiction
Peralta had cut loose were almost out of sight astern.
I uttered an exclamation of wonder, at which Peralta laughed
pleasantly.
‘Your Will-o’-the-Wisp may be fast, Señor Buccaneer,’ he said, ‘but
no craft that ever came off the stocks of European ship-builders will
sail with the boats which the Indians—savages we call them—can scoop
with rude tools out of a single glorious tree. Do we not move like an
apparition—a sea spirit? Let the Spaniards chase us in their clumsy
wooden boxes, the piragua will earn her right to her name though all
the navy of Old and New Spain were flashing in her wake. I call her
the “Ghost;” does not she glide like one fleeting to the sepulchre at
the first glimpse of the light of the morning?’
I looked at Peralta, beginning to suspect that the sudden flurry,
coming after the humming wine, caused him to vapour a little—but, if
it were so, he very soon came to himself.
‘Hark!’ said Disco, ‘the surf on the bar.’
‘And see,’ added Jenipa, ‘the lights of the Pearl Fleet close to in
the offing.’
‘Forward, and look out, both of you,’ cried Peralta, sharply. ‘Keep
your eyes open on either bow.’
Meantime I crouched down by the steersman on the weather-quarter.
The lofty lights of the frigate were much further to sea than
the squadron she guarded. Indeed, the great ship cared not for
approaching too closely the many banks and spits of sand, which run
out from the bar, and over which most of the smaller barks could
float very well. The leading ships, however, appeared to be as close
to the bar on one side as we were on the other.
‘Now,’ said Peralta, ‘grant that the stupidity of those fellows on
shore will keep them from making any signal to their comrades out at
sea.’ But the words were hardly out of his mouth, when the water and
the sky were lit up with a mighty flash, and the loud report of a
great gun—a small battery of which was planted before the fort—came
rolling down the river; and immediately afterwards a straggling
volley of small arms rattled all along the bank, as though the
soldiers were dispersed and running down towards the sea. By this
time, the white water on the bar was close ahead.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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