When the “La Pallice” was about half a mile astern, she put her helm up to wear round on the same tack which we were on. At that moment the whole spectacle was a most thrilling one, ourselves plunging into a fierce head-sea, the flocks of sea-fowl whirling through the gale, and the angry sky, each contributed its part to the sombre picture; while a great rent in the western clouds cast a broad shaft of light through the gloom full upon the big Frenchman, now in the act of wearing. Even Captain Scruggs and the second mate were impressed with the solemnity of the scene until they were attracted by the actions of the stranger. She had now worn completely around on the port tack, and as she had passed us so close to windward, we all thought that she would come up on our lee-quarter. But what is this? Can it be possible that her captain is going to try to put himself on our weather to show how his ship can hold a wind? He can scarcely be so mad as that. On comes the ship, however, nearer and nearer; fathom by fathom she hauls up on us till she is not more than a quarter of a mile astern and not two hundred yards to windward, and we can plainly see the whole of her forefoot, as her great bows, shearing through a sea, are flung high up, and then come crushing down in a smother of foam. All of our men have crowded to the side, for here is a spectacle indeed: a vessel bearing down upon another hove to and without steerage-way! However, she has still time to put her wheel up and pass under our stern; but no such notion is entertained by the maniac in command of her, and he is pinching her till her weather-leeches shiver in his mad endeavor to pass us to windward; and as the ship rises to a sea and pauses for an instant on its crest, it seems as though she would topple right down upon us. At this juncture Captain Scruggs begins to grow anxious, as well he might, and mutters, “Is that d---- fool really going to try it?” Five minutes more pass, and it becomes evident that we must get out of her way or be cut down by that sharp iron stem. Now this is quite a long job, being hove to, for it would be at least several minutes before we could gather headway. But we must do something, so the skipper sings out, “Cast off those tackles,” and two men are sent to the wheel. Anxiously we watch to see her head fall off, but she stubbornly hangs. “Square that crojjick-yard.” This is done; and then very heavily and clumsily we fall off and begin to gather way. So close are we to the Frenchman now that we could talk to those on board if the wind were not so strong. But we are not out of danger yet, for the French skipper seems possessed of a devil, and follows us up, as his vessel appears to handle like a yacht. It is but a few minutes more, though, until we have put half a mile of clear water between ourselves and M. Crapeau, and the danger is, for the time being, a thing of the past.