Suddenly, and ghostly at first through that lifting haze, loomed
the outline of a ship; gradually the lines of her red hull became
more and more sharply defined as she swept nearer with poles all
bare save for the spread of canvas on her sprit.
Instead of holding to her course as Don Miguel had expected she
would, the Arabella had gone about under cover of the smoke, and
sailing now in the same direction as the Milagrosa, was converging
sharply upon her across the wind, so sharply that almost before
the frenzied Don Miguel had realized the situation, his vessel
staggered under the rending impact with which the other came
hurtling alongside. There was a rattle and clank of metal as a
dozen grapnels fell, and tore and caught in the timbers of the
Milagrosa, and the Spaniard was firmly gripped in the tentacles
of the English ship.
Beyond her and now well astern the veil of smoke was rent at last
and the Hidalga was revealed in desperate case. She was bilging
fast, with an ominous list to larboard, and it could be no more
than a question of moments before she settled down.
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