"We'll tack too," said the commander. "Hands, about ship; helms alee; raise tacks and sheets; mainsail haul; of all, haul!" The crew eagerly performed the manoeuvre, and the ship, now on her starboard tack, stood in towards the land. Many sharp eyes on board were directed towards the spot where the stranger had last been seen. The master had gone to consult his chart; it was his business to warn the commander not to stand on too long towards the coast, although it was not as dangerous from hidden reefs and keys as further to the westward. "Can anybody see her?" asked the commander, whose eyesight was less acute than that of most of his younger officers. No one answered. "I got a glimpse of her a minute ago, but I can't make her out anywhere now, sir," said Mr Foley. At length the ship stood on for a quarter of an hour, till the outline of the land could be seen distinctly ahead against the clear sky. Again she was put about, but nowhere was the chase visible. The _Champion_ was now standing along the land at a safe distance. If the buccaneer could not be discovered from her deck, neither could she from that of the buccaneer; she might come upon her unexpectedly. A sharp look-out was kept all night, but when morning returned no sail was in sight. A mist hung like a thick veil along the coast, allowing only the summits of the higher ridges to be seen, as the sun, rising above the horizon, tinged them of a red hue with his glowing rays. To look for her to the eastward was useless, and the ship again being put about, stood to the westward along the land; but, except a few small craft which immediately made their escape among the rocks, or within the numerous bays and creeks, no craft worth overhauling was seen. The commander was a calm-tempered man, accustomed to disappointment, or he might have joined with some of the younger officers in their expressions of disgust at having lost the picaroon. Lieutenant Foley tried to look unconcerned when the commander at length expressed his intention of standing across to the Jamaica coast, touching at different places to ascertain what was going forward on shore. As the wind was favourable the _Champion_ was not long in making the land. A small bay marked as Peyton's Cove on the chart lay directly abreast of her. The commander, heaving the ship to, sent his second lieutenant with a boat to try and ascertain from any of the people in the neighbourhood what was going forward, that he might direct his course accordingly. A fisherman's hut appeared not far off from where he landed, and the lieutenant made his way towards it. The door was closed, but Mr Foley, on listening, heard a loud snore from within. He knocked. "Ki! who are you? What you come for?" asked a gruff voice. "Open the door, my friend, and I will tell you," answered the lieutenant; "but bear a hand, for I am in a hurry." The door was speedily opened, and a stout, well-fed negro appeared.