We were still conversing when my attention was called away by the cry of the look-out that a sail was to be seen to windward. Instantly every eye was turned over the weather-beam, for she was the first sail that had been reported since the gale. An officer seized a glass, and, hurrying to the mast-head, reported that the stranger was considered a heavy craft, although, as yet, nothing but his royals could be seen. As we were beating up to windward and the stranger was coming free towards us, the distance betwixt the two vessels rapidly decreased, so that in a short time the upper sails of the stranger could be distinctly seen from the deck. His topgallant-yards were now plainly visible from the cross-trees, and the officer aloft reported that the stranger was either a heavy merchantman or a frigate. This increased the excitement on deck, for we knew that there were no vessels of that grade in our navy, and if the approaching sail should prove to be a man-of-war and an Englishman, our chances of escape would be light, as he had the weather-gauge of us, and appeared, from the velocity with which he approached us, to be a fast sailer. The officers crowded on the quarterdeck, the crew thronged every favorable point for a look-out, and the ladies, gathering around Mr. St. Clair and myself, gazed out as eagerly as ourselves in the direction of the stranger. At length her top-sails began to lift. “Ha!” said the captain, “he has an enormous swing—what think you of him, Mr. Massey?” he asked, shutting the glass violently, and handing it to his lieutenant. The officer addressed took the telescope and gazed for a minute on the stranger. “I know that craft,” he said energetically, “she is a heavy frigate,—the Ajax,—I served in her some eight years since. I know her by the peculiar lift of her top-sails.” “Ah!” said the captain; “you are sure,” he continued, examining her through his glass again; “she does indeed seem a heavy craft and we have but one chance—we should surely fight her?” “If you ask me,” said the lieutenant, “I say no!—why that craft can blow us out of the water in a couple of broadsides; she throws a weight of metal treble our own.” “Then there is but one thing to do—we must wear, and take to our heels—a stern chase is proverbially a long one.” During this conversation not a word had been spoken in our group; but I had noticed that when the lieutenant revealed the strength of the foe, the cheek of Annette for a moment grew pale. Her emotion however continued but a moment. And when our ship had been wore, and we were careering before the wind, her demeanor betrayed none of that nervousness which characterized her cousin. “Can they overtake us Mr. Cavendish?” said her companion. “Oh! what a treacherous thing the sea is. Here we were returning only from Charleston to Boston, yet shipwrecked and almost lost,—and now pursued by an enemy and perhaps destined to be captured.”