MacDougall came back to Wake holding a chart. He pointed to a smudge to the left of the forestay.
“Appears to be Snake and Seahorse Keys, sir, by my reckoning.”
“Yes, I agree MacDougall, and it appears the flood is setting us to the east more than I had thought. Now, I wonder what is going to happen over there with those two?”
“According to this chart we should know soon enough, Captain. They’re running out o’ water over there. Hold course, sir?”
“Yes, gunner, we’ll hold course a little further. If they can sail through, we can. If the one ahead bears off to go out further, we can head her off.”
The two vessels were to windward and forward of the St. James, and both were showing no sign of altering course to get into deeper water farther offshore. By now the common opinion was that the second vessel was the naval schooner Annie, trying to catch up to a blockade-runner. The chase between them had narrowed to a mile. Soon something would happen, but what exactly could not be known yet.
The puff of smoke came as the striped ensign soared up to the main gaff peak of the second schooner. The lookout then provided additional information.
“Deck there! Gun from the schooner behind, sir. No splash. Musta been unshotted. American ensign flying now and some signals too. Starboard main spreader. Can’t read ’em, sir.”
Rork came up behind Wake and MacDougall with a signal book in his hand. He asked for the telescope glass from MacDougall and stared at the other naval ship. The lead vessel was not stopping. Rork was now looking in the squadron signal book each ship carried and glancing back up at the other schooner.
“I am almost certain that those are the numbers for the Annie, sir. One, Three, Nine. Schooner Annie, sir. Shall I acknowledge? Any other message?”
“Very well, Rork. No other message. It’s pretty obvious what is happening. We’ll stand by with them until this is done. Let’s just watch our depth around here.”
Rork went to the signals locker below and returned to the quarterdeck, where he had a seaman send up the signal and an ensign.
The sound of the second gunshot was louder, with the resultant splash ahead of the chase and to leeward. MacDougall was conversing with some of his gun crews, explaining the aspects involved in the shooting of a moving target from a rolling deck. His professorial tone altered slightly when the third shot came close aboard the chase.
“An excellent shot, by God! Mind ya now, we wouldn’t want to come closer than that. The point is to scare the buggers into giving up without damaging the hull or cargo! Remember that, lads. Close, but do not hit. That’s prize money they’re shootin’ towards over there.”
Wake at first thought that some part of the shot had hit something aboard the runner, for she slowed and swung around to the west rapidly. But then she stopped completely, sails askew and sheets flogging. Men could be seen looking overboard at the water. The Annie immediately bore off to the port and slacked her sheets. She was now running almost wing and wing dead downwind.
Rork was the first to speak.
“Aground! They ran her aground, God bless ’em!”
“Rork, ye’ve got a fine sense o’ the obvious, my friend. I just hope that—”
MacDougall stopped in mid-sentence. A chorus of groans and epithets rose from the men of the St. James. Their sister ship’s bow had dipped down suddenly and now the schooner halted, a quarter mile behind their prey, sails and rigging protesting.
Wake tried to sound calm as he gave his orders.
“We go after the runner. Bear up for her, Rork. Get the boat ready with a boarding party. You’ll lead it. I want to anchor as far away from her as Annie is. The boat will take you the rest of the way. No sense in going in further.”
Activity commenced with each hand fulfilling a task that had to be accomplished quickly. St. James was shorthanded because of her wounded and men on the prize crew. That left fewer men and another boarding party would mean even fewer still aboard the schooner.
It wasn’t long before St. James luffed up into the wind and lowered her sails, the anchor sliding over and holding her head toward the coastline. Signals from Annie said they did not need assistance, but Wake saw that no boat was being lowered from the other ship to capture the runner. Rork came over from the railing and saw Wake surveying the Annie with the glass.
“The jolt must’ve parted the fall tackle for the boat. They’ll be needin’ their boat to kedge off afore they do anythin’ else anyway, Captain. Do we capture the runner under our name or Annie’s?”
MacDougall was trying not to be too obvious in his attempt to hear the answer, which would mean the difference between the primary share or a secondary share of prize money.
“Annie’s. It was their chase.”
As he replied, Rork smiled over at the gunner’s mate and strode to the port railing where St. James’s own boat was now lowered and alongside.
“Annie’s it is, Captain. Honorable choice, sir. Right, gunner?”
“Just make sure the Rebs don’t scuttle the bitch on ya while ya’re bein’ so noble over there, Rork.”
The boat was heading off as Wake swung his glass between the Annie and the unknown vessel. The naval schooner was teeming with men getting the kedge anchor into the gig while others tried to get the larger ship’s cutter up off the deck and over into the water. Others were climbing into the rigging to repair damage done by the strain of the abrupt collision with the rocky reef. With each wave, the masts and decks jerked wildly as the hull crunched into the rocks. Wake could see Lieutenant James Williams, her captain, holding on through each shudder of the hull and issuing directions from the afterdeck.
The Rebel schooner had her sails still set and was
