Nearly a league beyond the slaver, looming up above the mist, we could now make out three topmasts, clearly defined, the stately set of which, with their firm and substantial rig, betrayed the fact that there floated beneath them the hull of a French or an English man-of-war, such as was commissioned at that time to cruise in these waters for the purpose of intercepting and capturing the vessels engaged in the African slave trade. "A cruiser has scented the brigantine," said Don Herero. "It certainly appears so," we affirmed. "Unless there be sharp eyes on board the little craft, the cruiser will be down upon her before her people even suspect their danger." "The brigantine can hardly escape, at any rate," we suggested. "Don't be too sure," said Don Herero. It was impossible for our friend to suppress the nervous anxiety which so manifestly actuated him as he viewed the new phase of affairs. "Look! Look!" he exclaimed. While he spoke, a drapery of snow-white canvas fell like magic from the spars of the slaver, ready to catch the first breath of the breeze which the stranger was bringing down with him, though the larger vessel was still partially wrapped in a thin bank or cloud of fog. A couple of long sweeps were rigged out of either bow of the brigantine, and her prow, which just before was heading shoreward, was swung to seaward, while her canvas was trimmed to catch the first breath of the on-coming breeze. "This looks like business," said Don Herero with emphasis, at the same time shading his eyes with both hands to get a better view of the situation. "Can you define the new-comer's nationality?" we asked. "Not yet." "See! she is now in full sight." "French!" exclaimed Don Herero, as the tri-colors were clearly visible hanging from her peak. "What will the cruiser do with the brigantine?" we asked. "First catch your hare," said our friend. Our host then explained that the slaver had evidently intended to land her cargo under cover of the night, but had been prevented by the mist from coming to anchor in time. Fog, being so seldom known on this coast, had not entered into their calculations. She had most likely felt her way towards the shore by soundings, and was waiting for full daylight when we discovered her. While this explanation was being made, the brigantine had already got steerage way upon her, aided by the steady application of the sweeps, and her sharp bow was headed off shore. Nothing on the sea, unless it were a steamer, could hold speed with these fly-aways, which were built for just such emergencies as the present. The gradually freshening breeze had now dispersed the mist, and the two vessels were clearly in view from the shore and to each other. The remarkable interest of the scene increased with each moment. Don Herero, with all the excitability of his nationality, could hardly contain himself as he walked rapidly back and forth, always keeping his eyes towards the sea.