most positive
orders to sink or capture all suspected vessels. We cruised about for
some time without making any prizes, and the weary and monotonous life
I led, became almost unbearable to me, driving me from the cabin to
the deck, and from the deck to the cabin, seeking in vain for some
relief from the ennui I suffered.

One very dark evening, it might have been about eight o'clock, I went
on deck depressed in spirits, and completely out of sorts. Here I
found Timothy Tailtackle, who had the watch, gazing into the
surrounding darkness so intently that he did not perceive me until I
was standing close to him.

"Any thing in sight, Master Tailtackle?" asked I, eagerly.

"Not exactly, sir, but I have just been begging for your glass. See
there! once, twice; but it is as dark as pitch Pray, sir, tell me how
far are we from the Hole in the Wall?"

The Hole in the Wall is a very remarkable rock forming the southern
promontory of the island of Abaco, one of the Bahamas. As its name
signifies, it resembles, either, from the action of the waves, or from
the cannonadings it has received, a perforated wall. It rises some
forty feet above the surface of the water.

"We are ten miles distant, at least," said I.

"Then," cried Tailtackle, in a sharp tone, "there must be a sail to
windward, and not far off either."

"Where?" asked I, eagerly; "quick, get my glass."

"Here it is, sir."

"Let me see, then."

I looked through the glass until my eyes ached, but as I could
perceive nothing, I resumed my walk on deck, satisfied in my own mind
that Timothy had been mistaken. The latter, however, continued to look
through the glass, and when I approached him, a few minutes
afterwards, said:

"Well, sir, now that it brightens a little, I see what it is that has
been puzzling me."

"The deuce you do! give me the glass." In a moment I saw it also.

"By Jove, Tailtackle, you're right. Send the men to their posts, get
the long guns ready, and clear the deck for action."

These orders of mine quickly changed our hitherto quiet vessel into a
scene of bustle and confusion. I kept my eyes steadily fixed on the
object which had attracted the watchful gaze of Timothy Tailtackle,
but all that I could make out was that it was a strange sail. On
account of the distance, and unusual darkness of the night, I could
distinguish neither its size nor rig. All this time a fine breeze was
driving us rapidly towards the coast of Cuba.

"Give