Who would have supposed, when looking at the two vessels, that those on
board the little half-crippled schooner could for a moment have
contemplated with confidence a conflict with the well-found, powerful
brigantine? But there was just this difference. The midshipmen felt
that they were, to the very best of their means, performing their duty,
and they felt a perfect confidence in Heaven's protecting power, while
they knew that the slaver was engaged in the most nefarious of callings,
and that the most abandoned miscreants composed her crew. On she came,
as though triumphing in her strength. Hitherto the little wind blowing
had been to the northward and east. As Adair was looking out to the
northward, he observed a dark blue line coming rapidly along over the
water. He pointed it out to Murray. "Trim sails," was the order
promptly given. In another minute the little schooner, close hauled
with her sails like boards, was standing away to the westward, while the
brigantine lay dead to leeward at the distance of at least two miles and
a half. Some minutes passed even before she felt the breeze, and when
she did it was pretty evident that it would take her many a weary hour
to catch up the schooner. The midshipmen agreed that with the
opportunity thus afforded them of getting away from the slaver, it would
be the height of rashness to wait and encounter her. They felt grateful
for having been thus preserved, and when the brigantine was seen to fill
and keep away on her course, they could not help joining their men in
giving vent to their feelings in a shout of joy. They stood on all
night. Eagerly the next morning they looked out--not a sign of the
brigantine was to be seen. For several days after this they were
knocking about, making often very little way, and sometimes drifting
back again during a calm double the distance they had made good during
the last breeze.
"I do hope, sir, as how this voyage won't last much longer," observed
Needham to Adair, pointing to numberless rents and torn places in the
sails. "I don't think this here canvas would stand another stiffish
gale without flying into ribbons. I've been hunting about, and I've
found a spare boat's sail and some other stuff to mend them. To my
mind, it's the best thing we could do before another squall catches us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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