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"British, as I guessed," cried the Admiral. He stood considering. "We'll just keep what we know to ourselves till we're quite sure," he said at length. "What d'ye say?" "We are in chase of a ship, my lord," cried Captain Acton, "which we hope to capture.".

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"No use tryin' to wake Maurice," she said as she turned to go. "As well try to wake the dead. Remember, you boys get up when I call you." The Admiral was on deck, and so was Captain Acton, and Captain Weaver had also stepped out of the deck-house to take a look round. The stranger was now sufficiently near to be determinable by the glass even in moonshine; and so soon as she sprang into being under the magical flourish of the wand of the moon, it was known for a surety that she was not the Minorca. She was square-rigged aft, and made a big, broad cloud as she rolled along under topgallant, topmast, and lower stun-sails. The breeze that had blown throughout the day still blew, and the circumstance of the stranger having kept ahead of the Aurora for many hours was proof of her nimble keel. Captain Acton's face as he emerged was grave and pale. His restlessness and anxiety had increased with the voyage and the obstruction of the wind. Realisation of the loss of his daughter was a pain in him that was as a wound deeply planted, and there was no remedy but the recovery of the girl. He joined the Admiral after looking aloft and around him, and exclaimed: "Very slow work, sir. If it's to be this sort of thing the Minorca will not find us at Rio; and if she fetches Rio before we do, my child is lost to me." "I'm waitin', Willium.".