a Cruz or a prison! I'm ready!"

Rapid orders went out, but hardly anything more could be done to
increase the speed of the ship. In fact, the lookout must almost have
taken it for granted that the strange sail away off yonder belonged to a
United States cruiser. Very likely it did, but it would have to draw a
good deal nearer before there could be any absolute certainty. In the
meantime, all on board the _Goshhawk_ might attend to whatever duties
they had, and discuss the remarkable tidings brought by the Mexican
schooner. While doing so, they could hardly have guessed correctly what
was doing and saying on board the other vessel which had caused their
anxiety. She was, indeed, a man-of-war, and she had received from a
returning army transport ship a whole lot of fresh news from General
Taylor's army, by way of Point Isabel on the coast, where he had been
encamped. Something like this had been shouted across the water by an
enthusiastic officer of the transport:

"Awful fightin'! Half a dozen battles! Taylor's whipped the Greasers
into smithereens! He's goin' to march right on into Mexico. I don't keer
if Uncle Sam annexes the hull half-Spanish outfit. I'm goin' in for one
o' them there big silver mines, if we do. Hurrah for Gineral Taylor!"

A chorus of ringing cheers had answered that, but here, also, there were
men of experience ready to question the entire accuracy of such
tremendous war news. The one thing, however, which was brought out
clearly to the mind of a naval commander was his greatly increased duty
of watchfulness to prevent any kind of munitions of war from reaching
the Mexican ports. That was the reason why he was now following at his
best speed what might after all prove to be an entirely innocent trader.
He even went below to consider the matter, and it was a full hour later
when the officer in charge of the deck came hastily down to tell him:

"Same fellow we chased before, sir. I've made him out. He's under
British colors again. Are we to chase?"

"Chase, sir?" roared the captain. "Of course we must chase! We know what
it means now. The old _Portsmouth_ must catch that rascal this time.
I'll come on deck."

Just as good glasses as those on board of her had been watching her
during that hour of swift sailing, and Captain Kemp was even now
lowering his telescope with what sounded like a sigh of relief.

"Mate," he said, "it's the same sloop that followed us before. It makes
me feel better. We