the sea, dejected,
weary, and wondering that they could have been so confused in the
darkness.

"Nice wigging we shall have, Vandean," said the lieutenant; "the skipper
will sarcastically tell me he had better have sent one of the ship's
boys in command. But there, I did my best. Ugh! how chilly it feels!"

An hour later they were alongside the _Nautilus_, which lay at the edge
of a bank of mist which covered the sea, while shoreward all was now
growing clear from a gentle breeze springing up.

The lieutenant was a true prophet, for the captain almost used his
officer's words.

"Then you haven't seen a sign of the schooner?"

"No, sir; but we smelt it."

"What!" cried the captain.

"Sail ho!" shouted the man at the look-out, and in a moment all was
excitement, for, about a mile away, down what looked like a clear lane
through the white fog, was a two-masted vessel, crowded with sail; and
as rapidly as possible the boats were hoisted up, and the _Nautilus_ was
in pursuit.

But hardly had she careened over under the press of sail than the fog
shut the vessel from their sight, and for the next two hours she was
invisible, while the captain of the _Nautilus_ had to lie to, for fear
of some slippery trick on the part of what was undoubtedly the slaver,
since she was more likely to make for the shelter of a creek than to
risk safety in flight.

But the wind was not favourable for this manoeuvre, and toward mid-day
the sea grew clear, and there was the slaver plainly visible miles away,
sailing out west, while the _Nautilus_ crowded on every stitch of canvas
in pursuit.

A stern chase is a long one, says the proverb, and night came with the
craft still miles away, but the sky was brilliantly clear, and the moon
shone forth, showing the white-sailed schooner in a strangely weird
fashion far across the flashing sea.

"We're gaining on her," said Bob Howlett, who was as full of excitement
as the men, while Mark felt a strange suffocating sensation at the chest
as he strained his eyes and watched the swift schooner, whose captain
tried every manoeuvre to escape the dogged pursuit of the Queen's
cruiser.

"Hang it all! he's a plucky one," said Bob, as the chase went on. "He
must be taken, but he won't own to it."

"Thought a ship was a she," said Mark.

"Well, I was talking about the skipper, wasn't I?"

"A man doesn't want to lose his ship, of course."

"Nor his cargo," cried Bob. "There, give it up, old