The Golden Rock Part 16

"I'll go and get my rifle," said Frank.

The Captain chuckled: "She's a mile off, at least; and if not, you might just as well puff at a whale with a pea-shooter. Still, I know how you feel. It's devilish hard to stand fire without giving back." He raised his voice: "Fire!"

The twelve-pounders spoke together, belching out b.a.l.l.s of fast revolving smoke, and spurring the s.h.i.+p on with their recoil.

"It's no good, of course," muttered the Captain; "but it will encourage them to keep up the chase."

"Why not give them the big gun, Captain?" asked Frank impatiently.

"A waste of ammunition; and we'll want all we have when we get near the end of our voyage. I could turn and engage them, but I like to see what I am about, and all I want to do now is to encourage them. There she goes round; see her port lights; she'll give us another broadside, and do you count the flashes."

"Count the flashes," thought Frank; "does he think this is a review?"

The twelve-pounders let go at the row of lights, and as the smoke rolled away there came a m.u.f.fled roar, and in an instant, it seemed to Frank, the air was full of sh.e.l.ls. The water was cup up astern, and one projectile struck the turtle-backed deck forward, and went humming into the black of the night.

"She carries six guns to the broadside, I think. What do you make it?"

"A dozen, at least, Captain, and heavy metal," said Frank, wetting his lips.

"No more than six and twelve-pounders. A larger sh.e.l.l sets up a different music, as you will soon learn. Still, I don't like it; their gunners are too smart."

The Captain took a turn up and down the bridge, then sent a shout to the Quartermaster to cease fire.

"Mr Hume, you will find a life-belt on the starboard side, opposite the hatchway, with a canister attached. Cut it adrift."

Frank found the belt, and sent it overboard.

"Keep her three spokes to port."

The steersman starboarded the helm, and the _Swift_ went off at an angle to her former course, whilst the canister, on reaching the water, flared out in a brilliant blaze in the s.h.i.+p's former wake.

Before Frank had reached the bridge the enemy had come round and fired his two forward guns, then, keeping on to port, quickly let go his starboard broadside. The water about the floating flare was dashed up in showers.

The Captain slapped Hume on the back as he reached the bridge.

"That's a simple trick, eh! and we could slip away as easy as winking if we had a mind to. Lord, won't they howl when they find how they have been done!"

There came a hearty guffaw from the towers aft as the men saw through the Captain's joke.

"Lord, there he goes again," as the forward guns again belched forth; "what a ferocious devil the commander must be! He takes that light to be a signal, and imagines he is firing at a crippled s.h.i.+p, the devil."

The Quartermaster came forward. "The enemy has slackened off, sir."

"Is that so?" said the Captain, taking a long look at the steamer's lights. "Ha, I have it," and he smacked his fist in his hand, showing the first symptoms of excitement. "He thinks we've gone down, and we'll lay-to till morning, which can't be far off."

"There'll be grey light in an hour, sir."

The Captain kept his eye on the steamer's light, which rose and fell, but kept its place.

"Quartermaster, take your men below for some hot grog and a bite, and rouse Mr Webster."

"Ay, ay, sir."

The Captain went to the tube. "Slacken speed, Mr Dixon, and be very careful with your fires. Starboard your helm; bring her round."

The _Swift_ went round with a steady swing, bringing the enemy's light on her port bows, instead of over her starboard stern rails.

The men lingered awhile to see the manoeuvre finished, and then went below, satisfied there was to be a fight.

"Keep her on that course now," said the Captain to the steersman.

"Mr Webster," he continued, as that officer stepped briskly up and took a glance round, "see that everything is in readiness, and that the men take their positions without a word. Within an hour the fight will begin."

"Begin, sir? You've been at it this past three hours, and I've been in and out of my bunk a dozen--times, while the men are all on the quiver."

"We haven't come to knocks yet. I'll present my card in the morning with a fifty-pound rat-tat."

Webster laughed gaily as he set about his duties, and presently the men gathered silently to their posts, some of them every now and again stealing to the sides to make out the whereabouts of the enemy and the meaning of the manoeuvre, which puzzled them, as one might gather from their whispered arguments.

The _Swift_ doubled back towards the eastern horizon, where the darkness was quickly melting into the grey of dawn, and a deep silence rested on the s.h.i.+p, and over the s.h.i.+ning heave of waters. Slowly the enemy's light was overhauled, then sank astern, but the _Swift_ kept on its way until a tint of pink appeared in the sky and the stars suddenly paled.

"The time has come," said the Captain. "Are you all ready?"

"Ay, ay, sir!" came the answer in suppressed tones.

"Round with her, my man, on the port tack."

The _Swift_ rushed round, and there was a murmur of admiring criticism from the old tars as they now understood the meaning of the Captain's manoeuvre.

"They are satisfied now," said the Captain, grimly, to Frank. "They thought all along, I'll be bound, that I could not fight this s.h.i.+p."

"I confess, sir, I don't understand your tactics."

"Well, I suppose you don't. The enemy's fighting strength is evidently in her bow guns. So is ours. I have got the 'vantage of her by going into action on her beam. Mark me, before she can bear her bow guns on us she'll be crippled. Full steam ahead!" he shouted, and the low craft rushed forward.

The whole horizon on the east was now bathed in light, and in a moment the blood-red disc of the sun flamed above the black line of the waters, while streamers of light shot into the sky. Straight ahead there rose a dark object. A shaft of golden light stretching across the waters struck full upon it, and there stood out in a glory of softest fire the tall masts and long black hull of the Brazilian s.h.i.+p. She was at rest, rising and falling gently; but there was a terrible awakening in store.

Every minute brought her into clearer relief, though from the dark background beyond there was a blur about her deck, out of which, however, presently there emerged distinct objects--her boats, her bridge unoccupied, the gilt scroll under her stern, over which idly dropped the Brazilian flag; and last of all, the chases of her port broadside grimly projecting, with a glint of red sunlight on their smooth cylinders.

The two vessels were now distant about six hundred yards, and at last the careless lookout on the Brazilian s.h.i.+p saw something alarming astern in the fierce rush of the low grey craft. Some men dashed up the rigging to get a better view, and a small group gathered on the bridge.

"We'll wake 'em up!" shouted the Captain, springing into the conning-tower and pressing a b.u.t.ton, which brought up "The Ghost" from its bed.

The real action had begun; the night's work had been child's play.

There was a terrific din as the long gun threw shot after shot, and in ten minutes a dense bank of smoke enveloped the _Swift_. The firing was suspended a minute.

The Captain stood in the conning-tower, his hands on the wheel, and his eyes fixed in a narrow slit under the steel roof. Giving a turn of the wheel to starboard, he brought the stem free of the smoke, and saw the enemy slowly gathering way, while men rushed about her decks in a state of terrible confusion at this sudden tempest of sh.e.l.ls that had poured upon them.

Some damage had been done evidently, but princ.i.p.ally to her top rigging.