two miles, when Roberts, one of the seamen, gave his decided opinion
that she was a French vessel, pointing out the slight varieties in the
rigging and build of the vessel, which would not have been apparent to
anyone but a thorough-bred seamen.

"We'd better up helm, and get the sail upon her. If she be French,
she'll soon show herself by firing at us."

Newton was of the same opinion. The brig was put before the wind, and
gradually all her canvas was spread. The privateer immediately shook out
all her reefs, set her lofty sails, hoisted French colours, and, in a
few minutes, a shot whizzed through the rigging of the _Estelle_, and
pitched into the water ahead of them.

"I thought so," cried Roberts. "It's a Johnny Crapeau. A starn chase is
a long chase, anyhow. The brig sails well, and there aren't more than
two hours daylight; so Monsieur must be quick, or we'll give him the
slip yet."

The privateer was now within a mile of them; both vessels had "got their
way;" and their respective powers of sailing were to be ascertained. In
half an hour the privateer had neared to three-quarters of a mile.

"I think our little guns will soon reach her," observed Newton.
Williams, give me the helm. Go forward with Roberts and the men, and
rouse them aft. Be smart, my lads, for she has the heels of us."

"Come along," said Roberts. "You, Collins, why don't you stir?--do you
wish to see the inside of a French prison?"