“'T is a vessel of war, out of all doubt,” returned the mate, “and under a cloud of canvas. I can make out the heads of her courses now, and see that she is carrying hard, for a craft that is almost close-hauled.” “Ay, ay; no merchantmen keeps his light stun'-sails set, as near the wind as that fellow's going. He's a big chap, too--a frigate, at least, by his canvas.” “I do not know, sir--they build such heavy corvettes now-a-days, that I should rather take her for one of them. They tell me ships are now sent to sea which mount only two-and-twenty guns, but which measure quite a thousand tons.” “With thunderin' batteries, of course.” “With short thirty-twos and a few rapping sixty-eight Paixhans--or Columbiads, as they ought in justice to be called.” “And you think this chap likely to be a craft of that sort?” “Nothing is more probable, sir. Government has several, and, since this war has commenced, it has been sending off cruiser after cruiser into the Gulf. The Mexicans dare not send a vessel of war to sea, which would be sending them to Norfolk, or New York, at once; but no one can say when they may begin to make a prey of our commerce.” “They have taken nothing as yet, Mr. Mulford, and, to tell you the truth, I'd much rather fall in with one of Don Montezuma's craft than one of Uncle Sam's.” “That is a singular taste, for an American, Captain Spike, unless you think, now our guns are mounted, we can handle a Mexican,” returned Mulford coldly. “At all events, it is some answer to those who ask 'What is the navy about?' that months of war have gone by, and not an American has been captured. Take away that navy, and the insurance offices in Wall-street would tumble like a New York party-wall in a fire.” “Nevertheless, I'd rather take my chance, just now, with Don Montezuma than with Uncle Sam.” Mulford did not reply, though the earnest manner in which Spike expressed himself, helped to increase his distrust touching the nature of the voyage. With him the captain had no further conference, but it was different as respects the boatswain. That worthy was called aft, and for half an hour he and Spike were conversing apart, keeping their eyes fastened on the strange vessel most of the time.