"Very well. Go call your boat's crew on deck. Stand by to capture them as soon as they reach the gangway, some of you, then stow them all below; let their boat tow astern. And when that's done, you, sir, hail your schooner and tell her to heave to until your return. Say just what I tell you to and nothing more--the pistol at your head is loaded still. Watch him carefully, men, and then send him below with the rest. Fill away again, Mr. Seymour." The ponderous yards were swung, and the Ranger soon gathered way again and rapidly overhauled the last of the fleet. The first trick had worked so well that it was worth trying again. As soon as she drew near the doomed ship, she showed lights like those of the frigate and sloop of war. Ranging alongside the weather quarter of the transport, the captain again hailed,-- "Ship ahoy!" "Ahoy, what ship is that?" Again the same deluding reply,-- "His Britannic majesty's sloop of war Southampton, Captain Sir James Yeo. What ship is that?" "The transport Mellish." "Very well, you are the one we want. I have a message for you. The Yankees are about, and the admiral has sent us to look up the convoy. Where is the Acasta?" "In the van, Sir James, about two leagues ahead; the corvette is about a mile forward there, sir." "Very good. Heave to and send a boat aboard and get your orders. Look sharp now, I must speak the corvette and the frigate as well." "Ay, ay, sir," replied the Englishman, as his mainyard was promptly swung.