The Cruise of the Midge. Michael Scott
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It was clear our enemies were clustering round us in force, although the fog was absolutely impervious at a distance of ten paces.
"I say, master," said Sprawl, "the bar should almost be passable now for a light craft like this?"
"Certainly," said Pumpbolt, "I make no doubt but it is; and if this cursed mist would only clear away, I would undertake to take the Midge, were she twenty tons bigger, slap across it, and pledge my credit she should clear it as sound as a bell; for we have a noble moon, and Brail there is quite confident about the river; besides, I took the bearings of the westernmost channel with the eastern point this very morning. No fear, if it would but clear. See if the moonshine has not made the fog quite gauzelike, as if it were bright and luminous of itself—Oh that it would rise!"
The four little reefers were at this moment clustered forward, close to me; we were riding with our head up the river, and I saw one or two old hands alongside of them, all looking out, and stretching their necks and straining their eyes in a vain attempt to pierce the fog.
"What is that?"—It was a greasy cheep, and then a rattle, as if a loose purchase or fall had suddenly been shaken, so as to make the blocks clatter, and then hauled taught, as if people were having a pull at the boom-sheet of a schooner, or other fore-and-aft rigged vessel.
"What is that, indeed?" said Sprawl. "Why, look there—look there, Lanyard—see you nothing there?"
"No, I see nothing—eh—faith, but I do—why, what is that?—Stand by, small-arm, men—go to quarters the rest of ye—quick—Poo, it is simply a thicker wreath of mist, after all."
Pumpbolt was standing by, but the object that we thought we had seen descending the river was no longer visible, and I began to think it was fancy. Suddenly the mist thinned.
"There is the spectre-like object once more," I shouted. "By all that is portentous, it is a large schooner, one of these slaving villains, who thinks he can steal past us under cover of the mist—There—there he is on our quarter—there are his royal and gaff topsail over the thickest of the fog—now his jib is stealing out of it."
"Clear away both guns there," sung out the fourth lieutenant. "We shall give him a rally as he passes, if he won't speak."
The strange sail continued to slide noiselessly down the river.
"What vessel is that?"—No answer—"Speak, or I will fire into you."—All silent—"Take good aim, men—fire!"
Both cannon were discharged, and, as if by magic, the watery veil that had hid every thing from our view rose from the bosom of the midnight river, and hung above our mast-head in a luminous fleecy cloud, which the moonbeams impregnated, but did not pierce, being diffused by it over the whole scene below in a mild radiance, like that cast by the ground glass globe of a sinumbra lamp—and disclosing suddenly the dark stream above and on each side of us, covered with canoes within pistol-shot; while the large schooner that we had fired into, instead of making demonstrations to escape over the bar, now shortened sail, and bore up resolutely across our bows, firing two guns and a volley of small arms into us in passing.
"We are beset, Lanyard—that chap is the commander-in-chief. His object is not to escape, but to capture us, my lad—take my word for it," cried Sprawl. "Forward, master, and look out for the channel—Lanyard, I recommend you to let Brail take the helm—I will mind the sails."
"True enough, by Jupiter," sung out old Dick. "Knock off from the guns, men—Shavings, stand by to cut the cable—hoist away the sail there—cant her with her head to the eastward—steady, men, and no rushing now. All ready there forward?"
"All ready, sir."
"Cut away, then."
The clear axe glanced bright and blue in the moonlight, and fell twice in heavy gashing thumps, and the third time in a sharp trenchant chip. The next moment the rushing of the rapid stream past our sides ceased, as the little vessel slowly floated away, attaining gradually the velocity of the river in which she swam. Presently round she came.
"Hoist away, foresail and mainsail—hoist—haul aft the sheets."
The breeze freshened at the moment. We were still about a mile from the bar, on which the swell was breaking in thunder; but we had run clear of the skirts of the mist, and the placid moon was again shining crystal bright overhead. The yells from the canoes increased. A volley of spears were lanced at us, several of which fell on board, but none of them did any injury; and several muskets were also fired from the tiny men-of-war, which were equally innocuous. The strange sail was right in our path.
"What shall we do?" sung out old Pumpbolt from forward.
Trusting to the great strength of the Midge, Lanyard shouted—"Plump us right aboard of him, if you can't do better; but creep under his stern, if you can. So starboard, Brail—starboard—steady—that will do."
"Steady," I replied; but he would not give us the opportunity, for as he saw us booming along, apparently aiming at him right amidships, as if we had thought we could have sawn him in two, the youth bore up, and stood right for the bar.
"So, so," quoth Davie Doublepipe—"we are away on a party of pleasure together, I perceive, señor?"
We carried on, but the Don, from superior sailing, kept well on our bow; and we were now, as we could judge from the increasing roar of the breakers, rapidly approaching the river's mouth.
At this time we had a distinct view, not only of our formidable antagonist, a large topsail schooner, and apparently full of men, but of the bar which we were about to pass, in such uncomfortable fellowship.
The canal of deep water that our steady and most excellent master aimed at, was about fifty yards wide. In it there was depth enough to allow the swell from without to roll in, clear and unbroken, had it not been met by the downward current of the river, aided, as in the present case, by the land-breeze, which made it break in short foam-crested waves.
We carried on. All firing for the moment was out of our craniums on either side.
"Do you see your marks now, Mr. Brail—there in the clear?" cried the master.
"Yes; I have the two trees on with the hummock—we are running straight as an arrow for the channel."
"Steady then," sung out the old master.
"Steady," I returned once more.
On the right hand and on the left the swell was by this time breaking in thunder, flashing up in snowflakes, and sending up a misty drizzle into the cold moonlight sky; but the channel right a-head was still comparatively quiet.
The schooner made an attempt to luff across our bows.
"Aim at him again," sung out old Bloody Politeful. "Aim at him again, Lanyard; to heave-to here is impossible."
"Boarders, stand by," cried Lanyard; but he once more, as we approached him, kept away.
We were now actually on the bar. The noise was astounding—deafening. The sea foamed and raged, and flew up in mist, and boiled in over our decks on either hand, as if we had been borne