He could not tell what was going to happen to him, till the men told him he must have fallen into a hedge of sea-nettles, and that he would soon get well again. This comforted him considerably, and so he consented to put on his clothes and sit quiet. It was now growing dusk, when, as we rounded a point, Grey exclaimed that he saw a sail ahead. I jumped upon the seat, and made out that she was a schooner standing off the land. "She hasn't much wind," Grey remarked. "We might overhaul her," said I. "We ought to do so," remarked Grey; "she may be an enemy." "We've got arms, sir," said one of the men. "And ammunition," added another. "Many a rich prize has been taken by a boat's crew," observed the coxswain, the oldest man in the boat. "Well, Grey, suppose we just pull up to her and ascertain what she is," said I. "With all my heart," he answered; "it's a pity, now we have got the muskets and ammunition, if we have the chance, that we should not make use of them." I fully agreed with him. My only fear was that the schooner might after all not prove an enemy. The wind was dropping gradually--there was little doubt that we should get up to her. "I suppose that the captain won't mind much if she is an enemy and we attack her," continued Grey. "He'll suspect, though, that we disobeyed orders, and had arms in the boat." "Not if we take her," I answered. "He'll not ask questions. If we fail we shall get into a terrible row--we may count on that; but we must take her, and it will stick a feather in our caps, and put some dollars in our pockets too." We were pulling steadily on all this time. We got the muskets up, and ascertained that they were dry, and, loading them, placed them on the thwarts ready for use. The schooner held her course. There was just wind enough to fill her sails and no more. I felt convinced that she was French. I asked the coxswain, Ned Dawlish, his opinion. He agreed with me, and thought that she was a privateer. "If so, she must be armed," said I. "We will keep in her wake, and as in a short time she will not have steerage way, she will be unable to bring her guns to bear on us." The men were all highly delighted with our proposal. They must have anticipated some such chance when they smuggled the arms into the boat. Ned Dawlish took another look at the chase. "She's a French craft, and a privateer, I'll bet any money," he exclaimed, sitting down again to his oar. The crew now gave way with a will. The sooner we were up to her the better, because, of course, we knew that we must by this time be seen, and our intentions suspected. "She carries three or, maybe, four guns on a side," observed Ned, looking over his shoulder. "But that's no odds, they can't reach us."