"I see; and we are almost up with the Tortugas. If we keep to the southward, we shall be right in her course if she attempts to run for those islands." "Right you are, Captain Alick," added the pilot, as he changed the course to due west. "There is a breeze coming up from the southward, which is quite a regular thing towards night. It will blow fresh for some hours, just about a whole sail breeze. I think you had better get your sails set, for the one that uses the wind first will make the most." I told the mate to call all hands, and put on every rag of canvas we could set. Before he had the foretopsail shaken out, the breeze came, though it was very light. By the time the rest of the sails were set, it was blowing lively. It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and we were fairly up with the Tortugas, and at least a mile to the southward of the Islander. If she attempted to get in among the islands, she must run across our course, and less than a mile ahead of the Sylvania. We could easily cut her off. "She can't get in among those islands now without running into us," I said, after I had carefully surveyed the situation. "That is as true as preaching," added Captain Cayo, laughing, when he saw that the other steamer was checkmated if she had intended to resort to any stratagem to avoid us. "We may as well put the steamer on her course for the South-east Pass." He suited his action to the words. The wind was freshening, and the log indicated that we were making twelve knots strong. Moses was still crowding on all the steam the boiler would bear, and I am sure the yacht never sailed any faster. At six I estimated that the Islander was not more than a mile ahead of us, and another hour would wipe out all the difference. "This wind is good for us in one way, and bad in another," said Captain Cayo, shaking his head after a searching gaze to windward. "You mean that we are likely to have some fog," I added. "Not only likely to have a fog, but sure of it. It is miles deep to the southward and westward." "Of course the Islander will be able to keep out of the way in a fog; and we can't help ourselves," I replied, trying to yield as gracefully as possible to the necessity of giving up our point. I had hardly uttered the words before the fog swept down upon us. It was very dense, and we could not see a ship's length ahead of us; at about the same time the wind suddenly subsided. We could see nothing of the Islander, and I had no doubt she had already shifted her course to the north or the south. "The game is all up, Captain Cayo," I said, very mournfully. "Up for the present," replied the pilot, as he called through the speaking-tube for the engineer to stop the steamer.