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Updated: May 1, 2025
Bambrick and another good hand went to the helm. A part of the fore-staysail was hoisted, just to pay the vessel's head off. We were not kept long in suspense. With a loud hiss and roar like thunder the hurricane struck us. The schooner heeled over to the gale; I thought she was going over altogether. Many fancied so likewise, and cries of terror escaped from several of the Frenchmen.
He soon returned with some biscuit and white cheese, and dried plums and raisins, and a few bottles of claret, but there was no honest cold beef or rum. "It's no wonder we licked the Johnny Crapeaus when that's the stuff they feeds on," observed Ned Bambrick, turning over the food with a look of contempt.
Billy was almost overpowered, and as there were some cutlasses at hand, the Frenchmen might have armed themselves and killed us while we were asleep. Bambrick knocked one over with a blow of his fist, and the other was easily managed. Where they had come from we could not tell.
Ned Bambrick was at the helm, with his eye cast ever and anon at the canvas, and then at the Frenchman, as we glided on rapidly towards him, just as cool and unconcerned as if he was standing up to speak to a friend. We had the weather-gauge, and Perigal resolved to keep it. Supposing the enemy superior to us in strength, it would give us an important and necessary advantage.
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