“Leroux!” A small French boy was at his side in a moment. “Forward, and call all hands to shorten sail; but, doucement, you land crab!--Man the fore clew-garnets.--Hands by the topgallant clewlines-peak and throat haulyards--jib down-haul--rise tacks and sheets--let go--clew up--settle away the main--gaff there!” In almost as short a space as I have taken to write it, every inch of canvass was close furled--every light, except the one in the binnacle, and that was cautiously masked, carefully extinguished--a hundred and twenty men at quarters, and the ship under bare poles. The head yards were then squared, and we bore up before the wind. The stratagem proved successful; the strange sail could be seen through the night glasses, cracking on close to the wind, evidently under the impression that we had tacked. “Dere she goes, chasing de Gobel,” said the Dutchman. She now burned a blue light, by which we saw she was a heavy cutter without doubt our old fellow-cruiser the Spark. The Dutchman had come to the same conclusion. “My eye, Captain, no use to dodge from her; it is only dat footy little King’s cutter on de Jamaica station.” “It is her, true enough,” answered Williamson; “and she is from Santa Martha with a freight of specie, I know. I will try a brush with her by....” Splinter struck in before he could finish his irreverent exclamation. “If your conjecture be true, I know the craft--a heavy vessel of her class, and you may depend on hard knocks, and small profit if you do take her; while, if she takes you”-- “I’ll be hanged if she does”--and he grinned at the conceit--then setting his teeth hard, “or rather, I will blow the schooner up with my own hand before I strike; better that than have one’s bones bleached in chains on a key at Port Royal.--But, you see you cannot control us, gentlemen; so get down into the cable tier and take Peter Mangrove with you. I would not willingly see those come to harm who have trusted me.” However, there was no shot flying as yet, we therefore staid on deck. All sail was once more made; the carronades were cast loose on both sides, and double-shotted; the long gun slewed round; the tack of the fore-and-aft foresail hauled up, and we kept by the wind, and stood after the cutter, whose white canvass we could still see through the gloom like a snow-wreath. As soon as she saw us she tacked and stood towards us, and came bowling along gallantly, with the water roaring and flashing at her bows. As the vessels neared each other, they both shortened sail, and finding that we could not weather her, we steered close under her lee. As we crossed on opposite tacks her commander hailed, “Ho, the brigantine, ahoy!” “Hillo!” sung out Blackie, as he backed his maintopsail. “What schooner is that?” “The Spanish schooner Caridad.” “Whence, and whither bound?” “Carthagena to Porto Rico.” “Heave-to, and send your boat on board.” “We have none that will swim, sir.” “Very well--bring-to, and I will send mine.”