Ahhh!’ I yell loudly in surprise.
‘I think the Customs might have a new gunner,’ the Bosun declares. ‘One with a keen eye. That was far too close for comfort.’
‘It looks like you may be right, Bosun. That unlucky Union general gives me an idea.’ The Captain glances about and sees me cringing at the stern rail shaking like a leaf. ‘Boy,’ he calls. ‘Do you know what the flag of the United States looks like?’
I nod, not sure my voice will still work after the shock.
‘You’ll find an American flag in the Bosun’s locker over there. Run it up the halyard on the backstay, toot sweet.’
‘Captain?’ asks the Bosun.
‘We are on the high seas this far out,’ he replies. ‘Her Majesty’s Customs can’t go firing on United States’ ships. Wars have been started by less.’
‘But we’re not an American ship,’ he declares.
‘You and I know that, Bosun, but that Customs’ captain can’t be sure. Imagine the diplomatic row if we were American and he hit us,’ says the Captain.
With shaking fingers, I quickly haul the fluttering flag as high as it will go.
‘Nothing more to worry about, boy. We’ll be out of range before they decide it is a ruse and can reload. And besides, they are fortunate we don’t fire back. Isn’t that so Mr Smith?’
‘Aye, right enough Cap’n,’ replies Mr Smith. ‘I’s sorely tempted to lob a shell down that stinkin’ chimley of theirs.’
‘You want to smite them most severely in revenge?’ says the Bosun, smiling only slightly.
‘I surely does,’ Mr Smith replies, also grinning. ‘Look at the state of me. They drenched me to the skin.’
I don’t understand how they can laugh when they’ve only just escaped being blown up.
Within twenty minutes the cutter has eased away and almost disappeared, leaving only smoke to mark its place, but the experience leaves me terrified and still shaking. I’ve only been at sea ten hours, and have already nearly been killed twice. This is the first time I have ever been shot at, and I hope it is the last, though listening to the crew talk, they seem quite used to gunbattles.
‘Bosun Stevenson,’ the Captain orders. ‘Alter course. Nor’-west, direct for Singapore. Just as soon as that god-awful oily stink has cleared and that damn cutter is completely over the horizon. We don’t need to advertise to them which way we are headed.’
