The _Nancy Hazlewood_ was now sailing close-hauled, and was as pretty a sight as one could wish to see. The wind was blowing stiffly, as it had done for some time. It had not increased to any account, though the scud was beginning to fly across the sky, and there was every prospect of its blowing heavily before morning. So the _Nancy Hazlewood_ went bowling along on this wind, her bows every now and then flinging a roaring sea from her in an ocean of foam. She was careened over so that the sea eddied around the lee scuppers, and her copper bottom showed red in the green waters. On she went, bouncing from sea to sea, as a ball bounces when it is rolled across the ground. The top-gallant masts were bent like a bow, and the weather backstays were as taut as the bow-string, those on the lee bowing out gracefully before the wind. The cloud of sails were bellied big and round, and were as hard as iron, and altogether, as was said, the _Nancy Hazlewood_ was as pretty a sight as one could wish to see. About two bells in the first watch Captain Knight gave orders that the ship should be put about, and running two points free on the starboard tack, stood off to the S.E. This, as has been said, was one of the narrowest shaves that Tom Granger ever had for his life, and as long as he shall remember anything he will never forget that half-minute when the British frigate was coming down upon them under full sail, with death at the helm. CHAPTER VII. THE next morning, when Tom came upon deck, he found that the wind had increased to half a gale. It was a dreary sight. The sky was heavy and leaden, and the sea was like liquid lead, for, when the sky is dull, like it was that morning, it seems as though one could almost walk over the surface of the ocean, so hard does it look, and so lacking of depth, excepting where the crest of the wave sharpens just before it breaks. The _Nancy Hazlewood_ showed that she was a very wet ship, for her decks were covered with water, that ran swashing from side to side. She would roll well over on her side, like a log, and scoop in the top of a wave, that would rush backward and forward across the deck until it had run out of the scupper holes; but before it was fairly gone another sea would come, so that the decks were never free of water. Not only was the ship laboring strangely, but she was yawing so that two men at the wheel could hardly keep her to her course. Jack was standing on the poop, anxious and troubled. Tom stood beside him, but neither of them spoke for a while, both being sunk in deep thought.