The _Thisbe_ at length sailed with sealed orders, though still short handed. Unless she could obtain the remainder of her crew by taking them out of any homeward-bound vessels or fishing-boats, she was to put into Plymouth to make up her complement. She was to avoid, however, touching anywhere, and to proceed, if possible, with all despatch on her voyage southward. She lost sight of the Needles just as the sun sank into the ocean. A light breeze to the northward filling her sails, she made some progress during the night, but as morning approached, a thick fog came on, and she lay almost becalmed on the glass like sea. It was Harry's morning watch. Look-outs were stationed aloft to catch the first glimpse of any sail which might be near, though their hulls and lower rigging would be hidden by the mist. It was a time when vigilance was doubly necessary, for it was possible that an enemy's cruiser might have ventured thus far towards the English coast in the hopes of capturing any homeward-bound merchantmen in ignorance of the war. At length dawn broke, and the mist assumed that silvery hue which showed that the sun was about once more to rise above the horizon. All hands were on deck, employed in the morning duties of a man-of-war's crew. The sails which had hitherto hung down against the masts gave several loud flaps, then gradually bulged out, and the ship obtaining steerage way, once more glided slowly onwards. Harry sent a midshipman forward to see that the look-outs had their eyes open. Suddenly the fog lifted. "A sail on the lee-bow," shouted the midshipman. "A lugger close-hauled standing across our course, sir." At that moment the captain came on deck. "She shows no colours," again shouted the midshipman. "We will speak her whatever she is," observed the captain. The order was given to trim sails, and the corvette was steered so as to cut off the lugger should she continue on her present course. Those on board the stranger only just then discovered the ship of war, and instead of continuing on close-hauled as before, she stood away with her sheets eased off to the southward. "That looks suspicious," observed Headland. "If she were honest, she would not try to avoid us." It was soon evident that the lugger was a fast craft. Every sail the _Thisbe_ could carry was set, while the lugger, spreading out her broad canvas, did her best to escape. "Perhaps the fellows think we may press some of them, and are simply anxious to escape being overhauled," observed Harry. Though the lugger made good way, the loftier sails of the _Thisbe_ carried her quickly through the water, and her commander and Harry hoped that she would deserve the character they first formed of her.