It was the 26th day of September that the _General Armstrong_ cast anchor there. The weather had been very fine, and Captain Reid, very proud of his vessel, had done everything to make her look smart and tidy. Her rigging was all tuned up to concert pitch; her decks were as white as sand and holystone could make them, and the men, contrary to the habit of most privateers, were dressed in suits of white duck and blue. The American Consul, John D. Dabney, felt a thrill of pride as he saw the man-of-war fashion with which the _General Armstrong_ came to anchor. As the long white gig came rolling up to the pier, and the men boated their oars, Mr. Dabney recognized that the officer sitting in the stern sheets was an old friend of his. "Ah, Captain Reid," he exclaimed. "Glad to see you. My compliments to you on the appearance of your vessel. I thought at first that she must be one of the regular navy; in fact, I took her for the _Enterprise_." "Well, I flatter myself that she is quite as shipshape," returned Captain Reid. "And I have to work my crew pretty hard to keep from showing how well satisfied I am with them. I tell you, Dabney, it isn't every man that has had such a fine lot of fellows under him. As to my success so far, it has been fair enough; but I'd really like to measure distances and exchange a few shots with some of His Majesty's little fellows." "You have come to a good place to look for them," Dabney returned. "It is seldom that a week passes without having one or more of them drop anchor in the roads." Chatting together in this friendly fashion, the two gentlemen went up into the town. It was late in the evening before Reid came to the water-front to signal for his boat. Dabney was still with him. They walked down to the end of the pier, and Reid suddenly pointed:-- "By Jupiter!" he exclaimed, "here we come," and following his finger Dabney saw three big vessels lazily moving along before the slight wind, toward the harbor entrance. Their earlier approach had been hidden by the headlands. The harbor of Fayal is surrounded by hills, on the slopes of which the town is built, and the bay extends in a semicircle with two wide-reaching arms. The water runs deep into the shore. The sun was setting in the calm evening sky, and there was scarce enough movement on the surface of the bay to catch the red reflections. Dabney turned to Captain Reid after the first long look. "English, or else I'm much mistaken," he said quietly. "Not the least doubt of it in my mind," Reid returned, "and if there was more of a wind, by Jove, I'd try to get out of this.... Do you think it is safe to stay?" "It is a neutral port," Dabney returned, "and Portugal and England have been such friends, that I do not think John Bull would take advantage of his position here. In my opinion they will respect the neutrality."