The immense injury done to the English service by American privateers, no less than the splendid victories obtained by our regular navy, had at length awakened in the mind of our adversaries a proper respect for American prowess. They had learned that the stars and stripes shone upon a banner that was seldom conquered, and never disgraced. At this period of the war their attention was more particularly directed to the privateers, who seemed to be covering the sea. Almost every merchantman that sailed from an English port became a prize to the daring and active foe. The commerce of England was severely crippled, and anxious to punish an enemy who had so seriously injured the service, several frigates were fitted out to cruise especially against the American privateers; these were chosen with particular reference to their speed, and one which was the admiration of every sailor in the service, called the Arrow, had spoken the merchantman, just as it was entering the channel, a few days after its capture by the Raker. No definite information as to the present position of the privateer could be obtained from the merchantman, but having learned her bearings at the time she was lost sight of, the Arrow bent her course in the same direction, confident that if he could once come in sight of her he would find little difficulty in overhauling her. It was a black, murky, windy day, with frequent gusts of rain, and a thick fog circumscribed the horizon, narrowing the view to a few miles in each direction. Toward evening the fog rose like a gathered cloud to westward, leaving that part of the horizon cloudless, and shedding down a bright light upon the waters. Had the look-out on the Arrow been on the alert he might have seen, directly under this clear sky, the topsails of the American privateer, but the honest sailor had just spliced the main-brace, and having deposited a huge quid of tobacco in his cheek, was lying over the crosstrees, in a state as completely _abandon_ as a fop upon a couch in his dressing-room. All on the Raker, however, were on the broad look out, they knew they were nearing the shores of England, and liable at any time to come within sight of an enemy's cruiser as well as merchantman. Lieut. Morris had for some time been anxiously scanning the horizon with his glass, and had caught sight of the frigate's topsails almost as soon as the fog lifted. As Captain Greene's wounds still in a great measure disabled him, the lieutenant still kept the command of the privateer. Unable to determine whether he had been seen by the frigate or not, he at once gave orders to bear off before the wind, hoping that even if such were the case, his little brig would prove superior in speed to the frigate.