The powerful rays of the sun, assisted by the increasing wind, now rolled away the fog from around the vessels, which had a perfect view of each other. They were distant about two miles, and the blue water was strongly rippled by the breeze which had sprung up. The lugger continued her course on a wind, while the cutter bore down towards her, with all the sail that she could throw out. The fog continued to clear away, until there was an open space of about three or four miles in diameter. But it still remained folded up in deep masses, forming a wall on every side, which obscured the horizon from their sight. It appeared as if nature had gratuitously cleared away a sufficient portion of the mist, and had thus arranged a little amphitheatre for the approaching combat between the two vessels. "His colours are up, sir. Revenue stripes, by the Lord!" cried Phillips. "Then all's right," replied McElvina. The cutter had now run down within half a mile of the lugger, who had continued her course with the most perfect _nonchalance_--when she rounded-to. The commander of the vessel, aware, at the first discovery of the lugger, that she could be no other than an enemy, who would most probably give him some trouble, had made every preparation for the engagement. "Shall we hoist any colours, sir?" said the first mate to McElvina. "No--if we hoist English, he will not commence action until he has made the private signal, and all manner of parleying which is quite unnecessary. He knows what we are well enough." "Shall we hoist a French ensign, sir?" "No; I'll fight under no other colours than those of old England, even when I resist her authority." A long column of white smoke now rolled along the surface of the water, as the cutter, who had waited in vain for the colours being hoisted, fired the first gun at her antagonist. The shot whizzed between the masts of the lugger, and plunged into the water a quarter of a mile to leeward. "_A vous, monsieur_!" roared out a French quarter-master on board of the lugger, in imitation of the compliments which take place previously to an _assaut d'armes_, at the same time taking off his hat, and bowing to the cutter. "Too high, too high, good Mr Searcher," said McElvina, laughing; "depress your guns to her waterline, my lads, and do not fire until I order you." The remainder of the cutter's broadside was now discharged at the lugger, but the elevation being too great, the shot whizzed over, without any injury to her crew; the main-halyards were, however, shot away, and the yard and sail fell thundering down on the deck. "Be smart, my lads, and bend on again; it's quite long enough. Up with the sail, and we'll return the compliment." In less than a minute the tie of the halyards, which had been divided close to the yard, was hitched round it, and the sail again expanded to the breeze. "Now my lads, remember, don't throw a shot away--fire when you're ready."