silence, which
was painful to all in the boat. He stood up in his place, and, after
looking for a couple of minutes, he made out the sail himself. So far as
he could judge from what he saw, the craft was a small sloop of not more
than thirty-five feet in length.

"Give way now, lively!" said the third lieutenant, in his ordinary
tones. "I make her out, and she is a small sloop. We shall not have much
of a brush."

Under the vigorous pulling of eight stalwart men, the cutter leaped
forward at a speed that would have won an ordinary boat race, and in ten
minutes more, the sloop could be distinctly made out, the cutter running
across her bow. She was close-hauled, with the wind from the south-west,
and very little of it. On board of her were at least ten men, as the
quartermaster counted them, and there might have been more in her cuddy
under the hail-deck forward.

"Boat, ahoy!" shouted a man on the forecastle of the sloop.

"On board the sloop!" replied Mr. Pennant, standing up in the stern
sheets. "What sloop is that?"

"The Magnolia, bound to Appalachicola," replied the spokesman of the
craft. "What boat is that?"

"The first cutter of the United States steamer Bronx! Heave to, and give
an account of yourselves," hailed the officer in command. "Stand by to
lay on your oars!" he added in a lower tone to his crew. "Oars!"

But the boat seemed to be running too far away from the sloop, though it
was near enough for the lieutenant and quartermaster to see that there
was a decided commotion on board of her.

"Hold water!" added the lieutenant. "Stern all!"

The momentum of the cutter was checked, and the boat placed in a
convenient position for a further conference with the sloop. Either by
intention or carelessness the skipper of the sail-boat had permitted her
to broach to, probably because he was giving too much attention to the
boat and too little to the sloop. When the cutter lost its headway, it
was not more than fifty feet from the sloop.

"Hold the sloop as she is, and I will board you," said Mr. Pennant,
as he saw the skipper filling away again.

"Keep off, or we will fire into you!" shouted the man on the forecastle,
who appeared to be the principal man of the party.

"See that your pistols and cutlasses are ready for use," said the third
lieutenant, in a tone loud enough to be heard by the crew only.

"We are all private citizens," added the sloop's spokesman.

"No matter what you are; I propose