eople on board could us. Never, when roasting in the tropics
under a burning sun, have I wished more earnestly for a breeze than we
now did that the calm would continue till we could get alongside the
long-looked-for craft. Not a word was spoken above a whisper, though we
knew that the splash of our oars in the water would soon betray our
approach to the sharpened ears of the smugglers, even before they could
see us. We redoubled, therefore, our efforts to get alongside, when a
light air coming off the land much thinned the intervening mist, showing
us the _Polly_, with her largest canvas spread to catch the breeze, and
now, as she loomed through the fog, appearing twice her real size, while
her people clearly made us out. In a moment her sails were trimmed, her
long sweeps were run out, and she was moving through the water, though
not near so fast as we were pulling.

"Give way, my boys, give way," shouted our skipper, all necessity for
silence being now removed. "Give way, and the lugger is ours."

With a hearty cheer the men bent to their oars and sent the boat flying
through the calm blue water, casting aside the light sparkling foam
which bubbled and hissed round her bows, as the story books about
seagoing affairs say, such as you youngsters are so fond of reading.
Well, the breeze freshened, however, before long, and we found that,
though still decreasing our distance from the lugger, we were not
gaining on her as fast as when she first made us out. We had, however,
got within about a quarter of a mile of her, when we saw a man jump on
the taffrail, and wave his hat at us as if in derision. Even at that
distance, some of our people declared they recognised him as Jan
Johnson, whom all of us knew well enough by sight. The next instant a
skiff was launched from her decks, into which he jumped, and pulled as
hard as he could towards the shore, to which he was already nearer than
we were to him.

Here was a dilemma for our skipper. If we followed the outlaw, his
lugger would very likely get away; and if we made chase after her, he
would certainly escape, and she, probably, even if we came up with her,
would not be condemned. The thought of the murdered man decided our
commander, and in a moment the boat's head was turned towards the shore
in chase of the skiff. Away we went, as fast as six ash oars in stout
hands could send us through the water, while Johnson, still undaunted,
continued his course; yet, i