Gradually the dark, mysterious fabric drew closer and still closer up on the port quarter of the _Aurora_, not the faintest glimmer of light being visible from stem to stern, and not a sound of any kind to be heard on board her. George began to feel a trifle nervous as he watched the silent, stealthy approach of the stranger; and fetching his speaking-trumpet from the beckets in the companion-way, where it always hung in company with the telescope, he stepped aft to the taffrail and hailed-- "Ship ahoy!" "Hillo!" was the response, in a tone of voice pitched so low that, though it was distinctly audible to those on board the _Aurora_, it would not penetrate the sluggish atmosphere to any great distance. "What ship is that?" inquired George. "His Britannic Majesty's brig--" (name unintelligible). "What ship is that?" "The _Aurora_, of London. Why are you out of your station, and without lights, sir? Is there anything wrong?" "Yes," was the reply, "but don't hail any more; there are enemies at hand. I will sheer alongside you presently, and tell you what to do." "Enemies at hand, eh!" muttered George. "What can it mean, I wonder? And if there _are_ enemies, by which, I suppose, they mean Frenchmen, in our neighbourhood, those man-o'-war fellows must have eyes like owls to be able to see them in the dark. Just step down into the cabin, if you please, Mr Ritson, and give the mate a call; I don't half like this." In little more than a minute Mr Bowen was on deck and listening to George's statement of what had already passed, and of his uneasiness. George had just finished speaking, when there was a sound as of a falling handspike, or something of the kind, on board the stranger, followed by a loud ejaculation of-- "_Sacr-r-r-r-re nom de_--" The remainder of the exclamation was promptly suppressed, but it was enough; George's suspicions were now fully aroused, and he whispered to the two men standing by him-- "She is French, beyond a doubt; they intended to surprise us, and very nearly they did it, too. But we will not be caught quite so easily this time. Ritson, go forward, rouse the men, and tell them to creep aft under the shelter of the bulwarks; let not one of them show so much as a hair of his head above the rail; and tell them to look lively. And you, Mr Bowen, be good enough to go below and bring up a cutlass apiece for all hands." CHAPTER FIVE. "CHOPPEE FOR CHANGEE--A BLACK DOG FOR A BLUE MONKEY." By the time that the _Aurora's_ crew were on deck, crouching behind the bulwarks aft on the port side, armed, and instructed by George as to what he required of them, the strange sail was within a dozen fathoms of the _Aurora's_ port quarter.