One round shot tore a great hole through the mainsail, as it went
shrieking by. Gary himself, aided by Rucker, got ready one of the two
guns wherewith the Wanderer was equipped and soon returned their fire,
though no effect was manifest.
The cruiser must have been informed of the character of the slaver, or
she would not have attempted to cripple her so persistently. Duff,
after eating, returned to the quarter-deck, where he watched with
folded arms the rather unskillful efforts to handle the long twelve
pounder pointed sternwards from the Wanderer's waist. At each
discharge a chorus of cries from the hold reminded him of their living
cargo, deepening still more his disgust at the nature of the venture
into which he had been inveigled.
The breeze began to freshen and whip somewhat to the southwest. Duff
went forward to where Gary and Rucker were trying to sight the loaded
gun.
"Shall I have the sheets trimmed, Captain Gary," he asked.
Gary surveyed the mate from head to foot with cool insolence. Then he
stamped his foot.
"You shall either go before the mast as a common sailor, or you can
remain a prisoner in your stateroom during my pleasure. If I gave you
your deserts, I'd have you clapped in irons."
"As a sailor you would probably put me in irons for again refusing to
fire, should you order me to; so I will go to the cabin. Take notice,
however, Captain Gary, I protest against your treatment. To fire on an
American man-of-war under these circumstances is piracy, and I submit
that no captain has a right to issue such orders to true American
seamen.
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