"What! You are not going to give up without an effort?" exclaimed the cornet. But with an oath the master bade him hold his tongue. Ahead a boat loomed through the mist, manned by a dozen rowers, with several musketeers in her stern-sheets. The men's matches were lighted, and their muskets at the ready. "Heave-to, once more, I say, and throw us a line," shouted an officer. "I hear you, sir," replied the master. "Down sail!" he shouted to the crew; but, obeying a motion of his hand, the men remained motionless. The next instant the master had thrown his whole weight against the tiller; the _Happy Adventure_ seemed to swing round as if on a pivot, and her bluff bows crashed into the rebels' boat. A shattering of wood, a chorus of shouts and shrieks, and the stout craft had overridden the frail long-boat, Then, within a little more than an oar's length of the towering pinnacle of rock under our lee, the _Happy Adventure_ spun round and resumed her course, the mist swallowing up the figures of the struggling men, though for long their cries were heard above the roar of the surf. "I owe you an apology for mistrusting you," exclaimed the cornet, holding out his hand to the imperturbable master; but the stiff old sea-dog of Devon only bade him remember he was but a mere passenger, whereupon my fellow-voyager retired in confusion. This was our only meeting with the vessels of Batten's squadron, and with the favouring breeze that soon dispersed the mist, the _Happy Adventure_ bore steadily eastwards. Shortly after midday the Bill hove in sight; then the wind failed, and until darkness set in the smack was rolling in the oily waters of Lyme Bay, with the distant sounds of the terrible Race being faintly borne to our ears in the calm atmosphere. About an hour after dark the cornet and I went to sleep, having only the rough comfort afforded by a heap of sails but, thanks to our hardy life, we slept none the worse. Our rest was fated not to be of long duration, for we were aroused by the master giving orders in a loud and excited voice. Springing to our feet, we peered into the inky blackness of the night, and straight ahead we saw a row of glimmering lights arranged in series of three, of which the middle one was slightly higher than the two outside. They were the stern lanterns of a fleet. "We are overhauling them fast," said the master "though we can scarce hope to pass by them ere daylight. If we are to avoid them we must needs stand in Poole Bay." "I care not what ye do, as long as we are not taken," replied the cornet, who still smarted under his previous rebuff. The breeze had freshened again, and we had run past Portland and were, so the master told us, abreast of St. Alban's Head. Resolving to stand more inshore, he altered the helm, and gradually we brought the endmost lights under our quarter.