"The wind looks like it will die down," said MacWilliams, who had been anxiously watching the sky. "If it does, we will outsail her. The next few moments should tell what the outcome will be."
It looked to us as if we must pass within pistol shot of the vessel, and the thought of having to receive a broadside from her at such a short distance was enough to make a braver lad than I shiver with fright. Watson and his gunners stood at the cannon, waiting for Uruj's command.
Our pursuer was close to us now—in full sail. We could see groups of men about the gun ports, from which cannon jutted.
A voice hailed us.
"Ho! The schooner, ahoy!"
"Hello!" MacWilliams responded.
"What vessel is that?"
"The Tripolitan schooner Hawk, from Tripoli. What ship is yours?"
We could not catch the first part of the reply, but we did hear the last words: "Haul down your flag and heave to!"