Dodd's fears ran the
other way: he said, in the weak voice to which he was now reduced, "They
are taking a wet blanket aboard; that crew of blackguards we swamped
won't want any more of us: it all depends on the pirate captain: if he is
not drowned, then blow wind, rise sea, or there's trouble ahead for us."
As soon as the schooner had picked up the last swimmer, she hoisted
foresail, mainsail, and jib with admirable rapidity, and bore down in
chase.
The _Agra_ had, meantime, got a start of more than a mile, and was now
running before a stiff breeze with studding sails alow and aloft.
In an hour the vessels ran nearly twelve miles, and the pirate had gained
half a mile.
At the end of the next hour they were out of sight of land, wind and sea
rising, and the pirate only a quarter of a mile astern.
The schooner was now rising and falling on the waves; the ship only
nodding, and firm as a rock.
"Blow wind, rise sea!" faltered Dodd.
Another half-hour passed without perceptibly altering the position of the
vessels. Then suddenly the wounded captain laid aside his glass, after a
long examination, and rose unaided to his feet in great excitement, and
found his manly voice for a moment: he shook his fist at the now pitching
schooner and roared, "Good-bye! ye Portuguese
lubber--outfought--outmanoeuvred--AND OUTSAILED!"
It was a burst of exultation rare for him; he paid for it by sinking
faint and helpless into his friend's arms; and the surgeon, returning
soon after, insisted on his being taken to his cabin and kept quite
quiet.
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