McElvina had sure data from which to calculate as to the exact period of embarkation, and was also aware that the frigate had orders to sail to the port of rendezvous the first favourable wind after the embarkation had taken place. In two days the Aspasia, for that was the name of the frigate commanded by Captain M—, was off Ushant, and the captain, taking the precaution to keep well off the land during the day-time, only running in to make the lights after dark, retained his position off that island until the wind shifted to the northward: he then shaped a course so as to fall in with the French coast about thirty miles to the southward of the harbour of Brest. It was still dark, when Captain M—, having run his distance, shortened sail, and hove-to in the cruising ground which McElvina had recommended; and so correct was the calculation, as well as the information of the captain of the smugglers, that at day-break, as the frigate lay with her head in-shore, with the wind at Nor’-Nor’-West, a large vessel was descried under the land, a little on her weather-bow. After severely scrutinising the stranger for some minutes with his glass, which he now handed to McElvina—
“That’s she, indeed, I believe,” said Captain M—.
“A large frigate, with studding-sails set, standing across our bows,” cried out the first-lieutenant, from the mast-head.
“She’ll try for the Passage du Raz; we must cut her off; if we can. Hands, make sail.”
The hands were summoned up by the shrill pipe of the boatswain and his mates; but it was quite unnecessary, as the men had already crowded on deck upon the first report which had been communicated below, and were in clusters on the forecastle and gangways.
“Topmen, aloft! loose top-gallant sails and royals—clear away the flying-jib,” were orders that were hardly out of the mouth of the first-lieutenant, breathless with his rapid descent from aloft, when the gaskets were off; and the sails hung fluttering from the yards. In another minute the sheets were home, the sails hoisted and trimmed, and the Aspasia darted through the yielding waves, as if the eagerness of pursuit which quickened the pulses of her crew had been communicated from them like an electric shock to her own frame, and she were conscious that her country demanded her best exertions.
“Pipe the hammocks up, Mr Hardy,” said Captain M— to the first-lieutenant; “when they are stowed we will beat to quarters.”
“Ay, ay, sir. Shall we order the fire out in the galley?”
“When the cocoa is ready, not before—there will be plenty of time for the people to get their breakfast. How does the land bear, Mr Pearce?”
“Saint Island about South East by South, eight or nine miles, sir,” replied the master.