he
Chops of the Channel.

Several vessels had been seen, but none had been approached. Mr Calder
did not care about this; he hoped to carry the boat into Falmouth or
Plymouth harbour in safety.

The evening was drawing on. "A sail on the starboard bow!" was the cry.
She was a ship standing across channel; unless she or they altered
their course, she could not help falling in with them. From the look of
the vessel it was impossible to say whether she was a friend or an
enemy.

"If them there tops'ls weren't cut by an English sail-maker, I'm ready
to pass for a Schiedam drinking big-breeched Dutchman for the rest of my
born days," observed Job Truefitt, in a decisive tone, as standing up on
the forecastle deck, and holding on by the mast, he shaded his eyes with
his hand, and took a severe scrutiny of the stranger.

"Maybe I've handed them more than once and again."

"What do you make her out to be, Truefitt?" asked Mr Calder from aft.

"Why, sir, maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'm right; but if I'm right, then
I take it she's no other than the thirty-two pounder frigate, `Thetis.'
I served aboard her better nor twelve months, so I don't deserve to have
eyes in my head if I shouldn't know her again," answered Job.

"I think that you are very likely to be right, Job, and I'll trust that
you are," said Mr Calder. "Take a couple of reefs in the mainsail as
you hoist it, lads. The sky gives promise of a blowing night, and we
shall do well if we can have a stout ship under our feet."

As the lieutenant was speaking, a heavy squall passed over the boat,
which, had her sails been set, she would have felt severely. As it was,
the spray which it carried drove over her in thick masses, as she
drifted before it. Dark clouds were breaking up heavily to the
southward, while others drove across the sky, their outer edges glowing,
like red-hot coals, with the beams of the setting sun. The squall,
however, passed away, sail was made, and the boat sprang briskly over
the rising seas towards the frigate. All were now as anxious to be seen
by those on board her, as they were before to escape observation. It
was very evident that a storm was brewing, and a pretty heavy one--such
a gale as the French fishing-boat they were in could scarcely weather.
Every instant the wind increased, and the seas rose higher and higher.
The frigate, it was very probable, was outward bound, for as the wind
got round she trimmed sails and steered