During the morning watch, Stewart, for some reason which he was unable to give, save an unaccountable impulse, changed the course and sent the ship down sixty miles to the southwest. Shortly after noon the fog fell lower, and so thinned out at the mast-head that the lookout on the topsail-yard could soon see along its upper surface. At about one o’clock the welcome sound of “Sail, ho!” came echoing down through the open hatchways. While ordinarily the sighting of a sail so near the coast has no great significance, Stewart’s prediction of a battle had aroused the men to a fever of impatience; and when they knew that a large sail, apparently a frigate, had been raised and that the fog was lifting, the watch below dropped their kits and tools and tumbled up on deck to have a glimpse of the stranger. Here and there wider rifts appeared in the fog-banks, and the midshipman of the watch, who climbed with a glass into the foretop, soon made her out to be a frigate bearing about two points on the port-bow. Stewart came up from below and immediately crowded on top-gallant-sails and royals in pursuit. Before long the weather had cleared, so that they could make out the horizon to windward, and from the deck could dimly discern the hazy mass of the chase as she hung on the lee-bow, apparently motionless. In less than an hour the man at the mast-head reported another sail ahead of the first one, and noted that signals were being exchanged between them. It was now almost a certainty that the vessels were those of the enemy. Forward the men were slapping one another on the back, and rough jokes and laughter resounded from the gun-deck, where the boys and stewards were clearing away the mess-dishes and stowing away all gear, in preparation for a possible action. On the quarter-deck wagers were freely offered on the character of the vessels, which looked to be frigates of 50 and 38. Stewart glanced aloft at the straining spars and smiled confidently. By this time the nearer frigate bore down within the range of the glasses, and they could see that she was painted with double yellow lines, and apparently cut for fifty guns. As it afterwards appeared, she had a double gun-streak, false ports having been painted in her waist. Lieutenant Ballard, who had been carefully examining her with his glasses, remarked to the captain, who stood at his elbow, that she must at least be a fifty-gun ship. Stewart, after a long look, suggested that she was too small to be a ship of that class. “However,” he continued, “be this as it may, you know I have promised you a fight before the setting of to-morrow’s sun; and if we do not take it, now that it is offered, we may not have another chance. We must flog them when we catch them, whether she has one gun-deck or two.”