He
looked rather glum, however, half an hour afterwards, when the same
voice bawled that she was a bull-dog looking craft, schooner-rigged,
and pierced for sixteen guns. The Yankee had hoped to fall in with a
fat West Indiaman, instead of which he had now to deal with a
man-of-war, carrying, perhaps, a larger weight of metal than himself.
The heads of the two ships were standing in towards each other, there
was no wind to speak of, but every hour lessened the distance that
separated the antagonists.
"Pilot," said the captain, addressing Willis, "be kind enough to let
me know what you think of that craft."
"I think," said Willis, taking the telescope, "I have had my eyes on
her before. Aye, aye, just as I thought. An old tub of a Spaniard
converted into an English cruiser, and commanded by Commodore
Truncheon, I shouldn't wonder. She has caught a Tartar this time,
however. Nothing of a sailer. If a breeze springs up, you may easily
give her the slip, if you like, captain."
"Give her the slip! No, not if I can help it. My cruise hitherto has
not been very successful, and I must send her into New York as a
prize. Mr. Brill," added he, addressing the officer next in command,
"prepare for action."
In an instant all was commotion and bustle on deck. Half an hour
after, the captain, now in full uniform, took a hasty glance at the
position of his crew.
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