to fancy that his American ally, for once, was wrong,
and that the ship in sight was actually what she professed to be--a
cruiser of the republic.

Both Winchester, who was in la Divina Providenza, and Griffin, who
commanded the boats, played their parts in perfection. They understood
too well the character of the wily and practised foe with whom they had
to deal, to neglect the smallest of the details of their well-concerted
plan. Instead of heading toward the lugger as soon as the chase
commenced, the felucca appeared disposed to enter the bay and to find an
anchorage under the protection of a small battery that had been planted
for this express purpose near its head. But the distance was so great as
obviously to render such an experiment bootless; and, after looking in
that direction a few minutes, the head of la Divina Providenza was laid
off shore, and she made every possible effort to put herself under the
cover of the lugger. All this was done in plain view of Raoul, whose
glass was constantly at his eye, and who studied the smallest movement
with jealous distrust. Winchester, fortunately for his purpose, was a
dark-complexioned man of moderate stature and with bushy whiskers, such
as a man-of-war's-man is apt to cultivate on a long cruise; and, in his
red Phrygian cap, striped shirt, and white cotton trousers, he looked
the Italian as well as could have been desired. The men in sight, too,
had been selected for their appearance, several of them being actually
foreigners, born on the shores of the Mediterranean; it being seldom
indeed that the crew of an English or an American vessel of war does not
afford a representation of half the maritime nations of the earth. These
men exhibited a proper degree of confusion and alarm, too, running to
and fro as soon as the chase became lively; exerting themselves, but
doing it without order and concert. At length, the wind failing almost
entirely, they got out two sweeps and began to pull lustily; the real as
well as the apparent desire being to get as near as possible to
the lugger.

"_Peste!_" exclaimed Raoul; "all this seems right--what if the frigate
should be French after all? These men in the boats look like my brave
compatriotes!"

"They are regular John Bulls," answered Ithuel, positively, "and the
ship is the spiteful Proserpyne," for so the New Hampshire man always
called his old prison. "As for them French hats and the way they have of
rowing, they act it all