"I have no doubt of it, Mr. Wharton." "They don't seem to like the look of us, sir. They've cut their cable and are clapping on sail." It was evident that the brig meant struggling for her freedom. One little patch of canvas fluttered out above another, and her people could be seen working like mad men in the rigging. She made no attempt to pass her antagonist, but headed up the estuary. The captain rubbed his hands. "She's making for shoal water, Mr. Wharton, and we shall have to cut her out, sir. She's a footy little brig, but I should have thought a fore-and-after would have been more handy." "It was a mutiny, sir." "Ah, indeed!" "Yes, sir, I heard of it at Manilla--a bad business, sir. Captain and two mates murdered. This Hudson, or Hairy Hudson, as they call him, led the mutiny. He's a Londoner, sir, but a cruel villain as ever walked." "His next walk will be to Execution Dock, Mr. Wharton. She seems heavily manned. I wish I could take twenty topmen out of her, but they would be enough to corrupt the crew of the ark, Mr. Wharton." Both officers were looking through their glasses at the brig. Suddenly the lieutenant showed his teeth in a grin, while the captain flushed to a deeper red. "That's Hairy Hudson on the afterrail, sir." "The low, impertinent blackguard! He'll play some other antics before we are done with him. Could you reach him with the long eighteen, Mr. Smeaton?" "Another cable length will do it, sir." The brig yawed as they spoke, and as she came round, a spurt of smoke whiffed out from her quarter. It was a pure piece of bravado, for the gun could scarce carry half way. Then with a jaunty swing the little ship came into the wind again and shot round a fresh curve of the winding channel. "The water's shoaling rapidly, sir," reported the second lieutenant. "There's six fathoms, by the chart." "Four, by the lead, sir." "When we clear this point we shall see how we lie. Ha! I thought as much! Lay her to, Mr. Wharton. Now we have got her at our mercy." The frigate was quite out of sight of the sea now, at the head of this river-like estuary. As she came round the curve the two shores were seen to converge at a point about a mile distant. In the angle, as near shore as she could get, the brig was lying with her broadside towards her pursuer, and a wisp of black cloth streaming from her mizzen. The lean lieutenant, who had reappeared upon deck with a cutlass strapped to his side and two pistols rammed into his belt, peered curiously at the ensign. "Is it the 'Jolly Roger,' sir?" he asked. But the captain was furious. "He may hang where his breeches are hanging before I have done with him," said he. "What boats will you want, Mr. Wharton?" "We should do it with the launch and the jolly-boat." "Take four and make a clean job of it. Pipe away the crews at once, and I'll work her in and help you with the long eighteens."