Читать книгу The Captain from Connecticut онлайн

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Peabody rubbed his chin, and stared at Hunningford; the latter's malicious grey eyes met his own hard blue ones without flinching.

"What's the force of these two schooners?" he demanded.

"They're both big enough to take care of themselves. The Emulation's two hundred and fifty tons, the Oliver's over two hundred. Oliver has four long nine and ten twelve-pounder carronades. Emulation threw half her guns overboard last December, when the Fox chased her in a calm, but she's rearmed herself from prizes--sixes, nines, and a couple of twelves."

Peabody's mind began to analyse the tactical problem presented.

"Neither Gooding nor Curtis," said Hunningford, "will fight a king's ship if they can help it."

Peabody knew that; no privateer captain who knew his trade would risk his ship and face certain crippling damage in action with a man o' war. If he were to lock yardarms with the Calypso there was still the rest of the escort to consider--the Bulldog alone could probably beat off the privateers, and the Racer, if she were present, could outfight them both. But the disparity of force was not so great as to be insuperable; the West Indian convoy was a prize, indeed, and any serious loss to it would raise a storm among the merchants of London. It was most unlikely that, for some time to come, there would be any equally attractive objective for an attack at smaller risk.