“That is more than I can tell. She may be either an Englishman or a pirate—more likely the latter than the former; for the British, even when they capture one of our fast-sailing schooners, are not apt to commission them; the lazy islanders think them too wet forward.” “A pirate!” “Yes! we have heard of several being about the West Indies, and this may be one, who, having followed the homeward-bound fleet, in hopes to catch a stray prize, has been, like ourselves, set into these infernal latitudes.” “You reason well,” said the captain. “However, we shall soon know. We evidently gain upon her. I think we could now reach her with our guns. But,” he added, after hesitating a moment, “we’ll keep on till we range alongside, and then give him a broadside that will settle him at once.” The plan of the captain was not destined, however, to succeed. He had scarcely spoken when the wind began perceptibly to die away, and before an hour it was almost a dead calm. Puffs of air, indeed, would occasionally distend our sails for awhile and urge us on a space, but the effect of this, on the whole, was to increase rather than lessen the distance between us and the chase, the latter making more headway in a light breeze. By the middle of the afternoon we were rocking on the surface of the deep, with every sail set, yet without advancing an inch. The day had been intensely sultry, and now that not a breath of air was stirring, the heat became almost insupportable. The vertical rays of the tropical sun, pouring down on our white decks, nearly blinded the eyesight; but in vain we turned our gaze elsewhere to seek relief, for the broad expanse of ocean to the very verge of the horizon, glowed like molten silver; while above the fiery luminary blazed in a sky of brass. Panting and exhausted we lay about the decks, or leaned over the sides gasping for air. As the hours wore on the captain began to show signs of uneasiness. He would look first at the sails and then at the chase, then up at our idle canvas again, and once more at the stranger. At last he addressed me. “The night will soon be here,” he said, “and under cover of it this fellow may escape. Since your suggestion that he may be a pirate, I feel doubly anxious to capture him. What do you think of carrying him with the boats?” I mused a moment before I replied. “It would be a perilous enterprise,” I answered at last, “but I think it might be made to succeed. If you are willing, sir, to risk the lives of the men, I shall be willing to lead the attack; only, if the attempt is to be made, the sooner it is done the better.” “Then my mind is made up.” And elevating his voice, he cried, “Boatswain, pipe away the boat’s crews; we will cut out the chase.”