"Hullo!"
"What ship is that, pray?"
"The ship Island Princess, from Salem, bound to Canton. Where are you
from?"
"The brig Adventure, bound from the Straits to Boston. Our foretopmast was
carried away four hours ago. Beware of--"
Losing the next words, the Captain called, "I didn't hear that last."
"Beware,"--came again the warning cry, booming deeply over the sea while
one and all we strained to hear it--"beware of any Arab ship. Arabs have
captured the English ship Alert and have murdered her captain and fifteen
men."
Squaring her head-yards, the brig dropped her mainsail, braced her cross
jack-yard sharp aback, put her helm a-weather and got sternway, while her
after sails and helm kept her to the wind. So she fell off from us and the
two vessels passed, perhaps never to meet again.
Both forward and aft, we aboard the Island Princess were sober men. Kipping
and the second mate were talking quietly together, I saw (I saw, too, that
Captain Whidden and some of the others were watching them sharply) Mr.
Thomas and Roger Hamlin were leaning side by side upon the rail, and
forward the men were gathering in groups. It was indeed an ominous message
that the brig had given us.
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