“Guns!” said Pitt, who stood with Blood
upon the quarter-deck. Blood nodded, listening.
“Ten miles away, perhaps fifteen — somewhere
off Port Royal, I should judge,” Pitt added.
Then he looked at his captain. “Does it
concern us?” he asked.
“Guns off Port Royal... that should argue Colonel
Bishop at work. And against whom should he be
in action but against friends of ours I think it may
concern us. Anyway, we’ll stand in to investigate.
Bid them put the helm over.”
Close-hauled they tacked aweather, guided by the sound
of combat, which grew in volume and definition as
they approached it. Thus for an hour, perhaps.
Then, as, telescope to his eye, Blood raked the haze,
expecting at any moment to behold the battling ships,
the guns abruptly ceased.
They held to their course, nevertheless, with all
hands on deck, eagerly, anxiously scanning the sea
ahead. And presently an object loomed into view,
which soon defined itself for a great ship on fire.
As the Arabella with the Elizabeth following closely
raced nearer on their north-westerly tack, the outlines
of the blazing vessel grew clearer. Presently
her masts stood out sharp and black above the smoke
and flames, and through his telescope Blood made out
plainly the pennon of St. George fluttering from her
maintop.
“An English ship!” he cried.
He scanned the seas for the conqueror in the battle
of which this grim evidence was added to that of the
sounds they had heard, and when at last, as they drew
closer to the doomed vessel, they made out the shadowy
outlines of three tall ships, some three or four miles
away, standing in toward Port Royal, the first and
natural assumption was that these ships must belong
to the Jamaica fleet, and that the burning vessel
was a defeated buccaneer, and because of this they
sped on to pick up the three boats that were standing
away from the blazing hulk. But Pitt, who through
the telescope was examining the receding squadron,
observed things apparent only to the eye of the trained
mariner, and made the incredible announcement that
the largest of these three vessels was Rivarol’s
Victorieuse.
They took in sail and hove to as they came up with
the drifting boats, laden to capacity with survivors.
And there were others adrift on some of the spars
and wreckage with which the sea was strewn, who must
be rescued.
THE SERVICE OF KING WILLIAM
One of the boats bumped alongside the Arabella, and
up the entrance ladder came first a slight, spruce
little gentleman in a coat of mulberry satin laced
with gold, whose wizened, yellow, rather peevish face
was framed in a heavy black periwig. His modish
and costly apparel had nowise suffered by the adventure
through which he had passed, and he carried himself
with the easy assurance of a man of rank. Here,
quite clearly, was no buccaneer. He was closely
followed by one who in every particular, save that
of age, was his physical opposite, corpulent in a
brawny, vigorous way, with a full, round, weather-beaten
face whose mouth was humourous and whose eyes were
blue and twinkling. He was well dressed without
fripperies, and bore with him an air of vigorous authority.
