Chapter 16

THEY LOOK IN AT CARRICKFERGUS, AND DESCEND ON WHITEHAVEN.

Next day, off Carrickfergus, on the Irish coast, a fishing boat, allured
by the Quaker-like look of the incognito craft, came off in full
confidence. Her men were seized, their vessel sunk. From them Paul
learned that the large ship at anchor in the road, was the ship-of-war
Drake, of twenty guns. Upon this he steered away, resolving to return
secretly, and attack her that night.

"Surely, Captain Paul," said Israel to his commander, as about sunset
they backed and stood in again for the land "surely, sir, you are not
going right in among them this way? Why not wait till she comes out?"

"Because, Yellow-hair, my boy, I am engaged to marry her to-night. The
bride's friends won't like the match; and so, this very night, the bride
must be carried away. She has a nice tapering waist, hasn't she, through
the glass? Ah! I will clasp her to my heart."

He steered straight in like a friend; under easy sail, lounging towards
the Drake, with anchor ready to drop, and grapnels to hug. But the wind
was high; the anchor was not dropped at the ordered time. The ranger
came to a stand three biscuits' toss off the unmisgiving enemy's
quarter, like a peaceful merchantman from the Canadas, laden with
harmless lumber.

"I shan't marry her just yet," whispered Paul, seeing his plans for the
time frustrated. Gazing in audacious tranquillity upon the decks of the
enemy, and amicably answering her hail, with complete self-possession,
he commanded the cable to be slipped, and then, as if he had
accidentally parted his anchor, turned his prow on the seaward tack,
meaning to return again immediately with the same prospect of advantage
possessed at first--his plan being to crash suddenly athwart the Drake's
bow, so as to have all her decks exposed point-blank to his musketry.
But once more the winds interposed. It came on with a storm of snow; he
was obliged to give up his project.

Thus, without any warlike appearance, and giving no alarm, Paul, like an
invisible ghost, glided by night close to land, actually came to anchor,
for an instant, within speaking-distance of an English ship-of-war; and
yet came, anchored, answered hail, reconnoitered, debated, decided, and
retired, without exciting the least suspicion. His purpose was
chain-shot destruction. So easily may the deadliest foe--so he be but
dexterous--slide, undreamed of, into human harbors or hearts. And not
awakened conscience, but mere prudence, restrain such, if they vanish
again without doing harm. At daybreak no soul in Carrickfergus knew that
the devil, in a Scotch bonnet, had passed close that way over night.

Seldom has regicidal daring been