As the Etoile came up with the Virginie they perceived that the frigate was already getting under weigh, and one of the officers hailed the lugger, desiring the skipper to heave to at the entrance, rather to the westward, as they were going to take advantage of the fog, and run well out. Two hours after this there was not a breath of wind, and the mist lay thicker than ever upon the surface of the deep. Those on board the Etoile were in a state of great anxiety, for they were merely drifting with the tide, and could not see twenty yards from them. “Morbleu! this is a contretemps,” said Guillaume Orbet to Captain Gaudet, who were pacing the deck, trying anxiously to distinguish objects through the mist; “that Ca-Ia may slip through our fingers if this fog continues.” “No, there is no fear of that,” returned Captain Gaudet; “the frigate must have gained a good offing whilst the breeze lasted, so that when the fog lifts, with the rising of the sun, we shall not be far off our chase, depend on it; for the Ca-Ira, coming down the river, must also have been becalmed like ourselves, whereas the frigate stood out with the breeze.” At sunset, as was his usual custom, Lieutenant Thornton stood close in for the harbour’s mouth; but, the wind getting very light, and a mist setting in over the line of coast, the Vengeance was hove to about a league from the entrance into the harbour, and a strict and careful watch kept. Our hero was beginning to get uneasy. Five days had passed, and no craft had left the port of Havre steering a direct course out to sea. He was sure of this, for the weather had been beautifully fine, and the nights clear, and the watch kept incessant and vigilant. There was no sign either of the Onyx corvette. About midnight, finding it still perfectly calm, and the mist thick, he retired for a few hours’ sleep, so that he might be on deck with the break of day, when he expected the fog to lift with a land breeze. Between three and four o’clock in the morning he jumped up, and, dressing, repaired upon deck. As he expected, with the rising of the sun the fog began to lift from the sea, and the breeze off the coast came fresh and pleasant after the heat of the previous night. Suddenly the haze dispersed like magic, as if it had never existed, and the full rays of a dazzling July sun fell upon the sea around them, the water sparkling and rippling under the influences of that most pleasant of breezes—a land wind—especially if in the Mediterranean, where it comes off laden with the perfume of the orange and citron, and the hundred other odoriferous plants that flourish beneath the southern skies of Italy. The sight that met the anxious gaze of Lieutenant Thornton brought all the blood into his cheeks and temples with excitement.