Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 18th century -- Fiction; Nore Mutiny, 1797 -- Fiction
As the day closed, the frigate was within a mile of the lugger, and
coming up with him hand over hand. The breeze was strong, and the water
was no longer in ripples, but curled over in short waves to the
influence of the blast. The frigate yawed a little--the smoke from her
bow-chaser was followed by an instantaneous report, and the shot dashed
into the water close under the stern of the lugger. "Sit down under the
bulwarks; sit down, my lads, and keep all fast," said McElvina. "He'll
soon be tired of that; he has lost more than a cable's length already."
McElvina was correct in his supposition; the commander of the frigate
perceived that he had lost too much ground by deviating from his course,
and the evening was closing in. He fired no more. Both vessels
continued their course--the smuggler particularly attentive in keeping
the three masts of her pursuer in one, to prevent her from firing into
her, or to oblige her to drop astern if she did.
Half an hour more, and as the sun's lower limb touched the horizon, the
frigate was within musket-shot of the lugger, and the marines, who had
been ordered forward, commenced a heavy fire upon her, to induce her to
lower her sails and surrender; but in vain. By the directions of their
captain, the men sheltered themselves under the bulwarks, and the vessel
continued her course, with all her sails expanded to the breeze.
A few minutes more and she was right under the bows of the frigate, who
now prepared to round-to, and pour a broadside into her for her
temerity. McElvina watched their motions attentively, and as the
frigate yawed-to with all her sails set, he gave the order to lower
away; and the sails of the lugger were in an instant down on the deck,
in token of submission.
"Helm hard a-lee, now--keep a little bit of the mizen up, Phillips--they
won't observe it."
"Marines, cease firing-hands, shorten sail, and clear away the first
cutter," were the orders given on board the frigate, and distinctly
heard by the smugglers; but the heavy press of sail that the frigate was
obliged to carry to come up with the chase, was not so soon to be
reduced as that of a small vessel--and, as she rounded-to with
studding-sails below and aloft, she shot past the lugger, and left her
on her quarter.
"Now's your time, my men. Hoist away the jib-sheet to windward." The
lugger payed off as the wind caught the sail. "All's right. Up with
the lugs."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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