“We are looking for the pirate, Paul Jones; he’s reported to be in these waters. Look out for him.”
There was then a sharp altercation between the speaker and another person who appeared to have just come upon deck. After a moment the new voice cried harshly: “Condor, ahoy!”
“We can’t have him do that,” said the boy to Longsword.
“The moment he set foot on this deck, the men would tell him everything,” agreed the Irish soldier.
“Clap on more sail,” said Ethan; “we’ll run for it.”
The men, at Longsword’s stern command, set the foresail and a couple of topsails; under the increased pressure, the Condor drew away, and the Drake faded to a blur and at last the mist swallowed her up all altogether.
“Put out all the lights,” called Ethan. “We can give her the slip in this fog.”
Longsword promptly extinguished all the lanterns; shouts from the Drake came ever more dimly through the night; a drum throbbed dully.
“They are beating to quarters,” said Ethan.
“Let them,” laughed Longsword. “Sure if they begin firing in a fog like this it’s only waste good powder they’ll be doing.”
Ethan had changed the course of the Condor until she stood as before the meeting; the wind blew briskly once more and the fog began to lift before it. The schooner had made some little distance before this died away, and the mist settled once more. Nothing was seen of the British ship.
“We have eluded them very nicely,” laughed Ethan, as he gazed into the gray wall behind them, vainly endeavoring to catch a glimpse of the Englishman.
He had no sooner uttered these words than a shout rang out from Longsword in the bow. Whirling about, his hand upon the butt of a pistol, he was dumbfounded to see the red and green bow lights glaring at the schooner for the second time that night.
“The Drake once more,” cried Longsword in amazement.
“It can’t be,” answered Ethan, easing the schooner a trifle. “We left the Drake behind us.”
“You’ve been sailing in a circle,” shouted one of the English seamen, exultantly. “The Drake is a smart craft, and she’s got you now.”
“Ahoy!” came through the gloom of the misty morning. “What craft is that?”
“British schooner Condor,” cried the sailor before he could be prevented. “What ship is that?”