This order was obeyed, but to the surprise of those in the Swash, the cutter did not exactly follow, though she kept off a little more. Her object seemed to be to maintain her weatherly position, and in this manner, the two vessels ran on, for an hour longer, until the Swash had made most of the distance between Montauk and Blok Island. Objects were even becoming dimly visible on the last, and the light on the point was just becoming visible, a lone star above a waste of desert, the sun having been down now fully a quarter of an hour, and twilight beginning to draw the curtain of night over the waters. “A craft under Blok,” shouted the look-out, that was still kept aloft as a necessary precaution. “What sort of a craft?” demanded Spike, fiercely; for the very mention of a sail, at that moment, aroused all his ire. “Arn’t you making a frigate out of an apple orchard?” “It’s the steamer, sir. I can now see her smoke. She’s just clearing the land, on the south side of the island, and seems to be coming round to meet us.” A long, low, eloquent whistle from the captain, succeeded this announcement. The man aloft was right. It _was_ the steamer, sure enough; and she had been lying hid behind Blok Island, exactly as her consort had been placed behind Montauk, in waiting for their chase to arrive. The result was to put the Molly Swash in exceeding jeopardy, and the reason why the cutter kept so well to windward, was fully explained. To pass out to sea between these two craft was hopeless. There remained but a single alternative from capture, by one or by the other, and that Spike adopted instantly. He kept his brig dead away, setting studding-sails on both sides. This change of course brought the cutter nearly aft, or somewhat on the other quarter, and laid the brig’s head in a direction to carry her close to the northern coast of the island. But the principal advantage was gained over the steamer, which could not keep off, without first standing a mile or two, or even more, to the westward, in order to clear the land. This was so much clear gain to the Swash, which was running off at racing speed, on a northeast course, while her most dangerous enemy was still heading to the westward. As for the cutter, she kept away; but, it was soon apparent that the brig had the heels of her, dead before the wind.