It could do them no harm at that time, so in a few moments they were running before a storm nearly equal in violence to the previous gale, and bitterly cold; but Captain O’Loughlin knew they would run out of that gale in less than twelve hours. The nor’-westers of the Gulf of Lyons rarely blow a hundred miles out from the gulf, getting less violent, and losing their bitter coldness, as they approach the African or Barbary coast. As there was nothing to apprehend in running before the gale, and the dawn breaking, and the sky clearing to windward, Captain O’Loughlin insisted upon our hero retiring for a few hours’ rest, and getting rid of his soaking garments. William Thornton felt little inclination to sleep, but he was quite willing to change his clothes, for he was soaked from head to foot. Nevertheless, as there might be plenty to do during the next twelve hours, he turned in, and before he was well aware of it, was sound asleep. He might have slept about three hours, when he was suddenly aroused by the loud boom of cannon. Jumping up, he was dressed in a few minutes, and hurried on deck, one or two more guns expediting his movements. To his extreme surprise, he beheld his Commander and the whole crew of the Babet actively engaged dragging a couple of long twelve-pounders aft, and, looking in that direction, he beheld a craft of their own size, with only her lower mast standing, and, under her fore course, following them. Captain O’Loughlin had rigged up a flag-staff, from which floated the flag of Old England. They had got up a jury-mast forward, and some of the crew were bending on a yard a spare topsail. There was not a cloud in the sky, the gale blowing with unmitigated violence, and a nor’-west sea rapidly rising, though a tremendous swell still ran in from the eastward. “By all that’s lively, William,” said Captain O’Loughlin, “we are in for a brush with that fellow after us. He’s a privateer, I think; he was close-hauled till he made us out, and then he squared away after us. Now, my lads, steady! His metal is not nearly as heavy as ours; watch the rise,” and bang went the twelve-pounder cannonade. The messenger went through the stranger’s fore course; what other damage it did they could not see; but, carrying so much canvas, their pursuer was coming up rapidly—he was then not more than half a mile astern. The decks were now cleared, and every preparation made for action. In spite of their crippled state, they found they could work six of their guns well, and powder and shot were handed up in abundance. With their two cannonades they kept up a tolerably well-directed fire upon the Frenchman, whilst he, with his bow chasers, returned the compliment, but, as yet, without doing mischief. The Babet was very shortly furnished with sail forward, under which she moved, it soon appeared, nearly as fast as the privateer—for such their pursuer was—and, as she yawed in the sea, they could see she was full of men.