The cutter, with her sharper bows and all her sail forward, was feeling it still more severely, and the spirits of all on board the lugger rose rapidly, as it was evident that they were dropping their pursuers. Suddenly, the gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and the boom was hauled on board.
"I thought it would be too much for them," the skipper said exultantly. "They are going to reef."
"We had better reef down too, I think," the mate said. "She has had as much as she could bear for some time."
"I'll hold on ten minutes longer," the skipper said. "Every half mile counts."
But before that time was up, the sails were one after another reefed, for the wind continued to freshen. The sky was still cloudless, but there was a misty light in the air, and a heavy sea was beginning to run.
Suddenly, a gun flashed out from the cutter. The skipper uttered an oath. Their pursuer was more than three miles astern, and he knew that she could only be firing as a signal.
There were several large ships in sight on their way up or down the Channel. To these, little attention had been paid. The skipper shaded his eyes with a hand, and gazed earnestly at a large ship on the weather beam, some four miles away.
"That is a frigate, sure enough," he exclaimed. "We are fairly caught between them.
"Haul in the sheets, lads, we will have a try for it yet."
The lugger was brought sharp up into the wind, and was soon staggering along seaward, with the lee bulwark almost under water. The cutter instantly lowered her square sail, and followed her example, continuing to fire a gun every minute. All eyes were turned towards the frigate, which was now on the port beam.