"It's two French privateers, Edie," said I, "Chasse-marries, they call
them, and yon's one of our merchant ships, and they'll take her as sure
as death; for the Major says they've always got heavy guns, and are as
full of men as an egg is full of meat. Why doesn't the fool make back
for Tweedmouth bar?"
But not an inch of canvas did she lower, but floundered on in her stolid
fashion, while a little black ball ran up to her peak, and the rare old
flag streamed suddenly out from the halliard. Then again came the rap,
rap, rap, of her little guns, and the boom, boom of the big carronades
in the bows of the lugger. An instant later the three ships met, and
the merchant-man staggered on like a stag with two wolves hanging to its
haunches. The three became but a dark blurr amid the smoke, with the
top spars thrusting out in a bristle, and from the heart of that cloud
came the quick red flashes of flame, and such a devils' racket of big
guns and small, cheering and screaming, as was to din in my head for
many a week. For a stricken hour the hell-cloud moved slowly across the
face of the water, and still with our hearts in our mouths we watched
the flap of the flag, straining to see if it were yet there. And then
suddenly, the ship, as proud and black and high as ever, shot on upon
her way; and as the smoke cleared we saw one of the luggers squattering
like a broken winged duck upon the water, and the other working hard to
get the crew from her before she sank.
For all that hour I had lived for nothing but the fight. My cap had
been whisked away by the wind, but I had never given it a thought.
Now with my heart full I turned upon my Cousin Edie, and the sight of
her took me back six years. There was the vacant staring eye and the
parted lips, just as I had seen them in her girlhood, and her little
hands were clenched until the knuckles gleamed like ivory.
"Ah, that captain!" said she, talking to the heath and the
whin-bushes. "There is a man so strong, so resolute! What woman would
not be proud of a man like that?"
"Aye, he did well!" I cried with enthusiasm.
She looked at me as if she had forgotten my existence.
"I would give a year of my life to meet such a man," said she.
"But that is what living in the country means. One never sees anybody
but just those who are fit for nothing better."
I do not know that she meant to hurt me, though she was never very
backward at that; but whatever her intention, her words seemed to strike
straight upon a naked nerve.
"Very well, Cousin Edie," I said, trying to speak calmly, "that puts the
cap on it. I'll take the bounty in Berwick to-night."
"What, Jack! you be a soldier!"
"Yes, if you think that every man that bides in the country must be a
coward."
"Oh, you'd look so handsome in a red coat, Jack, and it improves you
vastly when you are in a temper. I wish your eyes would always flash
like that, for it looks so nice and manly. But I am sure that you are
joking about the soldiering."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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