Another hour passed, and there were rocky islands on our starboard bow and two astern, but not a sign of inhabitant, only high bluffs, rugged cliffs, and narrow channels between reefs whitened by the constant breaking upon them of a heavy swell. "Rather slow work, Reardon," said the captain, as they two came by where I was at the bulwark, using a small glass. "See anything, Mr Herrick?" "No, sir," I said. "No, sir, indeed; of course you don't," cried the captain impatiently. "Nice trick you've played me, sir. Made me dress up my men and the ship in this tomfool way. There you are using your glass. What have you got to say for yourself, eh?" I could not tell whether he was speaking banteringly or really angrily, and, keeping my glass to my eye in the hope of seeing something to report, I mumbled out some excuse about meaning it for the best. "Best, indeed!" he said pettishly. "Nice objects we look. What do you think the First Lords of the Admiralty would say to me if they could see Her Majesty's gunboat--the finest clipper in the service--in this state? Eh? Why don't you answer, sir?" "I suppose, sir," I cried desperately, "that they would say you were doing your best for the sake of trying to catch the pirates." "Humph! do you, indeed? Well? Anything to report? What's the use of holding that glass to your eye if you can't see anything? Anything to report, I say?" "Yes, sir," I cried breathlessly, and with my heart throbbing heavily, "the junk has run up a little pennon to her mast-head." "She has?" cried Mr Reardon excitedly, and he raised his own glass. "Yes, you're right. Well done, Herrick! There, sir, I told you the lad was right." "Right? when they are signalling to us for water or a bag of rice." "When they have only to heave-to and let us overhaul them, sir," cried Mr Reardon, swinging his glass round and narrowly missing my head. "No, sir, they're signalling to the shore; and before long we shall see another junk come swooping out from behind one of those headlands, to take us in the rear. If they don't, I'm a Dutchman." "Then Dutchman you are, Reardon," said the captain, smiling. "I only wish they would." "Here they come, sir," I cried excitedly--"one--two--yes, there are three." "What? Where?" "You can only see the tops of their sails, sir, over that flat, low island this side of the big cliffs." "Eh! yes." Only those two words, as the captain sighted the slowly-moving objects just indistinctly seen, but they were enough to send a thrill all through the ship. For there was no mistaking the matter. The junk that had been hanging by us all night was a pirate after all, and she had signalled to companions on shore. I could see, too, that she was slightly altering her course. The enemy was at last in sight. CHAPTER ELEVEN. THE FIGHT. "Oh, if I only dared hooray!" I said to myself; and then a flush of pride rose to my cheeks, for the captain gave me a smart clap on the shoulder.