“Where’s your prize?” roared the speaking-trumpet with interest. “In my desk,” roared Captain Vincent in reply.... “Enemy dispatches.... I say, Keats, fill on your ship. Fill on her, I say, or you will be falling on board of me.” He stamped his foot impatiently. “Clap some hands at once on the tow-line and run that tartane close under our stern,” he called to the officer of the watch, “or else the old _Superb_ will walk over her without ever knowing anything about it.” When Captain Vincent presented himself on board the _Victory_ it was too late for him to be invited to share the Admiral’s breakfast. He was told that Lord Nelson had not been seen on deck yet that morning; and presently word came that he wished to see Captain Vincent at once in his cabin. Being introduced, the captain of the _Amelia_, in undress uniform, with a sword by his side and his hat under his arm, was received kindly, made his bow and with a few words of explanation laid the packet on the big round table at which sat a silent secretary in black clothes, who had been obviously writing a letter from his Lordship’s dictation. The Admiral had been walking up and down, and after he had greeted Captain Vincent he resumed his pacing of a nervous man. His empty sleeve had not yet been pinned on his breast, and swung slightly every time he turned in his walk. His thin locks fell lank against the pale cheeks, and the whole face in repose had an expression of suffering with which the fire of his one eye presented a startling contrast. He stopped short and exclaimed while Captain Vincent towered over him in a respectful attitude: “A tartane! Captured on board a tartane! How on earth did you pitch upon that one out of the hundreds you must see every month?” “I must confess that I got hold accidentally of some curious information,” said Captain Vincent. “It was all a piece of luck.” While the secretary was ripping open with a penknife the cover of the dispatches Lord Nelson took Captain Vincent out into the stern gallery. The quiet and sunshiny morning had the added charm of a cool, light breeze; and the _Victory_, under her three topsails and lower staysails, was moving slowly to the southward in the midst of the scattered fleet carrying for the most part the same sail as the Admiral. Only far away two or three ships could be seen covered with canvas, trying to close with the flag. Captain Vincent noted with satisfaction that the first lieutenant of the _Amelia_ had been obliged to brace by his afteryards in order not to overrun the Admiral’s quarter. “Why!” exclaimed Lord Nelson suddenly, after looking at the sloop for a moment, “you have that tartane in tow!” “I thought that your Lordship would perhaps like to see a 40-ton lateen craft which has led such a chase to, I dare say, the fastest sloop in His Majesty’s service.” “How did it all begin?” asked the Admiral, continuing to look at the _Amelia_.