That morning at length arrived, when it was debated strongly whether the
faint discoloration that broke the line of the western horizon as seen
from the mast-head, were land or not. As daylight became more decided,
so did the state of our convoy. The wolves were hovering round the
sheep. Well down to the southward there was a large square-rigged,
three-masted vessel, fraternising with one of our finest West Indiamen.
The stranger looked tall, grim, and dark, with his courses up, but his
top-gallant sails and royals set. The white sails of the merchant
vessel, and she was under a press of sail, were flying in all
directions; she was hove-to, with her studding-sails set, and many of
her tacks and sheets were flapping to the wind. Both vessels were hull
down from the deck, and we well understood what was going forward.
Right astern, and directly in the wind's eye of us, was a flat, broad
schooner running before the wind, with nothing set but her fore
stay-sail. As she lifted to the sea, at the edge of the horizon, her
strength of beam was so great, and her bulwarks so little above the
water, that she seemed to make way broadside on, rather than to sail in
the usual position. There was no vessel particularly near her. Those
of the mercantile navy that most enjoyed her propinquity did not seem,
by the press of sail that they were carrying, to think the situation
very enviable. However, the Falcon, one of our men-of-war brigs, was
between this schooner and all the convoy, with the signal flying, "May I
chase?"
But this was not all; a whitish haze cleared up; to the northward there
was a spanking felucca, with her long lanteen sails brailed up, and
sweeping about in the very centre of a knot of dull sailing merchant
vessels, four of which, by their altered courses, had evidently been
taken possession of. Reversing the good old adage, first come first
served, we turned our attention to the last appearance. We made the
signal to the other man-of-war brig, the _Curlew_, to chase and capture
the felucca, she not being more than two miles distant from her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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