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On this Captain Acton and his friend went on deck. The schooner was travelling three or four knots one way, and the stranger was heading directly for her at some small pace, so that the speed of the two vessels being combined, the sail might be expected to show a clear hull; which she did, and with the aid of their telescopes, Captain Acton and Sir William confirmed the conjecture of Captain Weaver. She was either a little brig or a brigantine—her after-sails were concealed; her burden was very small. The dusty and rusty complexion of her canvas neutralised the brilliance which most ships' sails shine with when the silver glory of the morning sun pours strong upon them. By half-past nine, three bells by the schooner's clock, the stranger was on the larboard-bow with her main topsail to the mast, and so close that it seemed almost possible to distinguish the faces of her people. "So do I, sir," said Sir William. "I see," exclaimed Mr Fellowes. "But are you sure of the situation of the chase?".

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"And there's the Bellisle," said Captain Acton. "I was in her"—and he named the period to his daughter, whom he addressed, but who seemed to have no eyes for any ship but the Victory. Other ships, the two retired naval officers knew, were the Superb, Spencer, Swiftsure, and Leviathan. Cobin Keeler, who was playing a game of checkers with Billy's father, cleared his throat and leaned forward like a judge on the bench, waiting for the answer to his neighbor's question. Mr Lawrence, with his back turned upon this cabin door, heard Lucy's voice, but not what she said. If Paul answered her his voice was so sunk by the awfulness of her presence, by all that she meant being at sea, by all that she had typified to this forlorn vagrant when on shore, that his accents were inaudible in the cabin. "To Walter Lawrence, Esquire., R.N., in command of Captain Acton's barque-rigged vessel named the Minorca..