"And is that a great one?"
"The greatest; it may have decided the battle in our favor."
"What is that, then?" she asked.
"It is not 'what,' but 'who,'" he answered, smiling.
"Who, then?"
"John Paul Jones himself! He alone is worth a thousand."
The light from the rising sun, assisted by the fitful wind, began to dispel the mists of the morning.
"See!" cried the girl, pointing. "There, right ahead of us! Are not those the sails of a ship? What ship?"
Wraithlike, as she pointed at a rift in the mist, and wreathed in clouds of vapor, there appeared, for a second, the light canvas of a great ship. Following her outstretched finger, he caught a fleeting glimpse of it, but saw nothing to reassure him as to the result of the battle; the sight struck terror to his heart. Such canvas as that was never set above the decks of the Richard. As he looked the mist closed around them again; the ship had vanished.
"Ah, 'tis gone, but I am certain I saw it. Which was it?" she continued, hastily rousing herself at the prospect of decision. "'Tis a ship, is it not? But which one?"