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It was not long before the brig that was chasing on the schooner's weather-quarter swelled and paled in distortion with the encompassing thickness, and presently she was a pallid square, and then she became a smudge, after which the rain curtain dropped upon her, and she vanished. Then it was that Captain Weaver luffed the schooner to windward of her course, and she went ahead with flattened-in sheets, leaning to it and severing the flint-coloured billow with her sharp tooth of fore-foot: and so she held on, until, had the weather cleared, the brig, even had she taken in her stun-sails and hauled the wind with yards sweated fore and aft, would have been found dead to leeward and far away beyond all dream of prize money amongst the French crew. "Well, maybe that ain't stealin' it, but if it ain't what would you call it, Willium?" "Yes, I remember. The master died in the homeward passage, and the ship was[Pg 17] brought to port by the mate, to whom I suppose you intend to give the command.".
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"She remained on board, and is in my cabin, and I shall occupy the cabin which was fitted up professedly for a sick-bay." "The pilot," said Captain Acton, "was John Andrews. Was he on board, do you know?" And still, it must be true. Immediately his manner towards Scroggie underwent a change. All the antipathy that a woods-born boy can feel toward a city-bred one vanished suddenly at the intelligence imparted to him. It was the look of true comradeship, the smile that always won him confidence and fidelity, that he gave Jim now, as he whispered: "Any time you want'a borrie my shot-gun, Jim, jest let me know." "The French Flotilla!" exclaimed Miss Acton. "In sight, do you say?".
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