"It is
quick work they are after."
Down in the hold the labored pitching of the schooner was adding
seasickness to the sufferings of the poor wretches there. Doleful
cries resounded, among which one at all conversant with their language
would have heard calls for water predominate.
At night, when darkness reigned, the misery of such a scene would be
augmented.
Several shells were fired by the cruiser, each one coming nearer to the
mark, until at last an explosion just forward of the foretopmast
shivered a double throat block, and down came the foresail, the leech
trailing in the sea as it fell.
Another piece of the shell tore off a sailor's arm, and still another
disabled one of the boats.
Orders from the captain came thick and fast; men flew hither and
thither to repair the damage; while the wounded man lay writhing and
neglected for some time. The Adams all at once slowly yawed, being
within easy range, as the Wanderer lay helpless with her nose in the
wind's eye.
"Look out!" shouted Rucker. "She's making ready to give us a
broadside."
"Lively there, men!" roared Gary, nearly frantic. "Do you want to
spend a year or so in a Yankee jail?"
A redoubled roar from the cruiser followed, and a small tempest of iron
hurtled around them.
One shot passed through the after hold, terrifying anew the negroes,
who yelled fearfully. A rent or two in the sails was all the damage
beside, that was inflicted.
Ralph, who was assisting to reeve a new block at the foretop, saw that
the fog was almost at hand.
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