"About three points on the larboard bow," was the rejoinder.

We had not spoken a vessel since we left Portsmouth. Indeed, we
had seen none, excepting a few fishing smacks on St. George's
Bank. The sight of a vessel on the broad ocean ordinarily
produces considerable excitement; and this excitement is of a
pleasing character when there is no reason to believe the
stranger an enemy. It varies the incidents of a tedious passage,
and shows that you are not alone on the face of the waters; that
others are traversing the ocean and tempting its dangers, urged
by a love of adventure or thirst of gain.

The captain looked at the strange vessel through his spy-glass,
and said it was standing towards us. We approached each other
rapidly, for the stranger carried a cloud of sail, and was
evidently a fast sailer. By the peculiar color and cut of the
canvas, the captain was led to believe we were about to be
overhauled by a British man-of-war. This announcement gave me
pleasure. I longed for an opportunity to behold one of that
class of vessels, of which I had heard so much. But all the crew
did not participate in my feelings. Two of the sailors, whom I
had good reason to believe were not "native Americans," although
provided with American protections, looked unusually grave when
the captain expressed his opinion, manifested no little anxiety,
and muttered bitter curses against the English men-of-war!

I then learned that the British navy "the wooden walls of Old
England" whose vaunted prowess was in every mouth, was manned
almost exclusively by men who did not voluntarily enter the
service, prompted by a feeling of patriotism, a sense of honor,