"No, sir," answered Cross; "the wind still holds steady at about west, though it seems a little inclined to back half a point or so to the south'ard, and it's clouded over again and gone very dark. We tacked at midnight, sir, according to your orders." "Midnight!" ejaculated George; "you surely do not mean to say it is midnight already, Cross?" "About a quarter after it, sir," answered the second mate with a smile. "You've slept sound, sir, I expect; and time has travelled fast with you." "I must have slept sound indeed," answered the skipper; "to me it seemed that I had hardly fallen asleep when I was awakened by the flapping of the canvas. Well, I'll not keep you from your bunk; I shall go on deck and take a look round before I turn in again. Good-night." "Good-night, sir," was the reply; and the second mate opened the door of his berth and passed in, whilst George sprang lightly up the companion-ladder and stepped out on deck. It was indeed, as the second mate had said, very dark; so much so that the skipper, having just left the cabin, where a lamp was dimly burning, was unable to see anything for a moment or two. Then, as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he caught first a glimpse of the man at the wheel, his form faintly illuminated by the binnacle light, then the figure of the mate, just turning near the taffrail to walk forward, and finally the dark, shadowy pile of canvas towering away aloft until it melted into the general obscurity. "It has gone very dark again, Mr Bowen," remarked the skipper, as the mate, becoming aware of George's presence on deck, joined him. "It _is_ dark, sir," answered the mate, "almost too dark to be poking about here in the Channel without lights." "It is rather risky, I admit," returned George; "still, I do not think it is so dangerous as showing our lights; that would simply be hanging out an invitation to those prowling French privateers to pounce down on us. How is her head?"--to the man at the wheel, George and the mate having by this time strolled aft together. "No'th, half west, sir," was the reply. "Come, that is not so bad," remarked George. "We shall fetch Plymouth yet in good time to join the convoy if all be--" "A sail broad on the weather bow!" broke in the lookout forward, with startling abruptness. Both George and the mate instantly directed their gaze in the direction indicated by the lookout; and presently a shapeless something like a blacker patch against the black background of the darkness loomed into view, about one point before the beam, showing by this rapid change in the respective positions of the two ships how near was the stranger. "Why!" exclaimed Leicester, "he is coming right down for us; he will be into us. Port, port hard; up with your helm smartly, my lad," to the man at the wheel. "Ship ahoy! Port your helm; can you not see us?"