Commodore Junk — page 204: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

NEWS AT LAST, 197 of the enemy, the men in the chains among the rest gazing hard at the rising smoke, the war vessel careened over in answer to her helm in the evolution which was to lay her side by side with the burning schooner, and then there was a tre- mendous jerk which threw nearly every one off his feet. Then, shivering from head to heel, the sloop slowly surged back as if to gather force like a wave, and in obedience to the pressure upon her sails, struck again, literally leaping this time upon the keen-edged barrier of rocks under whose invisible shelter the schooner lay ; and then, as a yell of horror rose from the men, the unfortunate ship remained fixed, her masts, sail-laden, went over the side with a hideous crashing noise, and all was confusion, ruin, and despair. The moments required to turn a stately, sail-crowded ship into a state of chaos are very few, and to Humphrey Armstrone’s agony, as, well aided by his officers, he was trying to do some- thing to ameliorate their position, he saw how thoroughly he had been led into a cunningly-designed trap. The schooner had been artfully manceuvred to place her behind the dangerous rocks, and, what was more, a glance at her now showed her sailing away from a couple of boats moored beyond her, and in each of which were barrels of burning pitch sending up volumes of blackened smoke. “A trap! a trap!” he cried, grinding his teeth. ‘ Let her be, my lads,” he roared. ‘Prepare for boarders!” The men sprang to their pikes and swords, while a couple of guns were freed from the wreck of cordage and sail which the shock had brought down. These guns had hardly been trained to bear upon the schooner from the deck of the helpless sloop when a deadly fire was opened by the former—a fire of so furious a character that the confusion was increased, and in spite of the efforts of captain and officers, the men shrank from working at the guns. Gomicbooks =