"`Won't you walk into my parlour?'
Said the spider to the fly?"
"She's evidently a whaler, crow's-nest and all," he said.
"Well," said the captain, "we'll _w(h)ale_ her;" and he laughed at his
own stupid joke.
"I say there, old lantern-jaws," he bawled down the companion.
"I reckon," said a Yankee voice, "you alludes to this child."
"I do," cried the captain; "and look ye here. We are going to fight and
so forth. If we're like to be bested, scupper the old man at once.
D'ye hear?"
"Well, I guess I ain't deaf."
"Very well, then. Obey, or a short shrift yours will be."
"Why, captain," said the mate, "she knows us. She has put about, and is
bearing away to the nor'-nor'-west."
"Then hands up-anchor," cried his superior. "Crowd all sail; she can't
escape us in her crippled condition."
"Ah! captain," the mate remarked, "had you taken my advice and given
that pretty but sly minx the _sack_, ere she gave you the _slip_, that
whaler would have been ours before now."
"Silence," roared the captain. "On that subject I will not hear a word.
She shall be mine yet--or her father dies."
With the exception of the few sentences bawled down the companion, all
this was said in Danish, and my translation is a free one.
And so the chase commenced, and seawards before the pirate, in an
apparently crippled condition, staggered the _Arrandoon_.
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"How far do you intend to bring her out?" asked Allan.
"Ten miles clear of these islands, anyhow," replied McBain, "then she
won't be able to play any pranks with us. Boys," continued McBain, a
few minutes afterwards, "I'm going to write letters--home."
There was nothing very unusual in the tone of his voice as he spoke
these words, but there was a meaning in them, nevertheless, that was
perfectly understood by our young heroes. They were not long, then,
before they were each and all of them seated by the saloon table,
inditing, it might or might not be, the last communications to the loved
ones at home they _ever_ would pen. They were performing a duty--a sad
one, perhaps, but still a duty; they were about to fight in a good
cause, doubtless, but the result of the battle was uncertain. The
_Maelsturm_, for that was the name of the pirate, was better--or rather,
I should say, more copiously--manned than the _Arrandoon_, and though
not so large a ship, she had more guns; her crew too fought with halters
round their necks, and would therefore doubtless fight to the bitter
end. The only advantage--and it was a great one--possessed by the
_Arrandoon_ was steam power. Hours went by, and the chase was still
kept up. It was six bells in the forenoon watch, and the _Maelsturm_
was hardly a mile astern. Our men had already had dinner, and were all
in readiness--waiting, when, borne towards them over the wind-rippled
waters from the pirate ship, came the quick, sharp rattle of a
kettledrum. One roll, two rolls, three.
"At last," said McBain, "they are beating to quarters."
A puff of smoke from the bow of the pirate, the roar of a gun, and
almost immediately after a round shot ricocheted past the quarter of the
_Arrandoon_.
The battle was begun.