The lugger’s crew were stout, hardy looking young men, with the air of having braved danger many times and not fearing to look it in the face. True to Captain McHale’s word, they had cast off the lines, towed the vessel into the stream and had the sails drawing within a very short time after he came aboard. “You are right,” said Ethan as he noted the little vessel’s progress with satisfaction. “The Erin has speed.” “She sails like a hawk, sir, before the wind,” said her captain proudly. There were still some hours of daylight and every vessel they passed was carefully studied by McHale. “I know the Montespan very well,” said he. “There is a rake to her tall masts that I could recognize anywhere above the horizon.” But night came on and still there was no sign of the desired vessel. The lugger squared away for Plymouth, and morning found her cutting the choppy seas of the channel, well upon her way. While the captain and his two passengers were at breakfast the lookout shouted: “Sail ho!” Instantly Captain McHale was upon deck, glass in hand. “Where away?” he asked. “Right ahead, sir.” The skipper of the privateer took a long, thirsty look, and then cried, delightedly, “It’s the Montespan, by the gods of war!” Ethan and Longsword each took a look at the chase through the glass. Then the former said, “How many hours is Plymouth off, with this breeze?” “We should reach there by night if we were going there,” answered the skipper. “Do you think it is possible for the lugger to overtake the vessel ahead in that time?” “The Erin, sir, can outsail the Montespan in any slant of the wind. We’ll overhaul her within five hours, if nothing happens, and you can talk to Monsieur Fochard about any matter of business you might have wid him, below in my cabin.” The steadiness with which the lugger hung upon the track of the Montespan attracted the attention of those on board that vessel before long. A topsail was run up, and a jib set, which increased her speed greatly. Captain McHale smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled. “See to that, now, how bashful they are. Sure, sorra the bit do they want to become acquainted wid us.” The great, square canvases of the lugger were trimmed and hauled taut; she heeled a little more, and the white spume that boiled in her wake showed an increase in her speed also. Mile after mile was covered; the Montespan constantly lifted higher and higher, until at length they could plainly see, with the naked eye, the people upon her decks. However, the lugger was not making the speed that her skipper expected of her, and he seemed vexed when the chase spread more canvas and began to slowly slip away. The lug sails were drenched with water to make them draw better; this improved matters, but not much, and the sun was low in the west, the gray coast of England lay ahead, and still the Montespan was beyond the reach of the Erin.