Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
The corvette stood down the coast, a bright look-out being kept both for
native dhows and square-rigged vessels, of which not a few Brazilians,
Spaniards, and Americans were known to be engaged in the nefarious
traffic. The carpenters had been busy fitting the boats, raising the
gunwales of the smaller ones, and adding false keels to the larger, to
enable them the better to carry sail; and all hands guessed that
something was to be done, but what it was the commander kept to himself,
or made known only to his lieutenants.
In spite of the utmost vigilance of the look-outs, not a vessel had been
seen, till one morning, just at daybreak, as the ship was standing in
for the land, the wind being to the southward, a dhow was discovered
coming up before it, her canvas of snowy whiteness glittering in the
rays of the rising sun. The commander, who was on deck, in a moment
gave the order to lower the lifeboat; and Adair, with Ben Snatchblock
and Desmond, leaped into her and pulled away for the coast, so as to
intercept the dhow should she attempt to pass ahead of the corvette.
"We've caught the dhow in a trap, at all events," observed Adair, "for
she's no chance with the ship on a wind. She is certain to try and run
for it close inshore, when we shall as certainly catch her. Give way,
my lads! she hasn't seen us as yet, and stands on with a flowing sheet,
thinking that she has a good chance of slipping between the corvette and
the land."
The wind being light, the corvette was making but little way through the
water, and had a breeze come off the land, the dhow would have had a
fair chance of escaping, had it not been for the boat ready to intercept
her. The dhow, under her immense spread of canvas, glided on rapidly;
and her Arab captain was probably congratulating himself on the prospect
of escaping from his powerful foe, when he caught sight of the boat
lying in wait for him. Heavy rollers broke on the shore, sending the
surf flying up many yards over the beach. The dhow was seen suddenly to
put up her helm and to steer directly for the shore.
"Good heavens!" cried Adair; "the Arab isn't going to attempt to carry
his vessel through those breakers?"
"He is, though, sir," observed Snatchblock. "It's a pretty sure sign
that he has got a cargo of slaves aboard. Poor beings! not many of them
will reach the beach alive."
Adair immediately steered the boat towards the dhow, though he had
little hope of reaching her in time to prevent her from running on
destruction. Several shots were fired to make her heave-to, but the
Arab crew heeded them not; and Adair had got almost within a cable's
length of the breakers when the doomed vessel was seen plunging in their
midst, to be cast in a few seconds on the shingly beach.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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