The escape of the traitor was entirely forgotten, for the time being, and we lads knew full well that the commodore would not press the matter unless it should seem necessary in order to avoid suspicion.
Most exciting was this chase after we made out beyond doubt that the strange sail was a British vessel heavily armed.
Every stitch of canvas was spread, and the question as to which craft in the fleet was the best sailer bid fair to be settled before we were come up with the chase.
The Britisher was a clipper, and soon gave evidence that she could hold her own against our swiftest vessel; but where there were so many against one it seemed almost certain we might succeed in cornering her.
I venture to say that every man aboard the Lawrence, including the commodore himself, remained on deck during the entire day, watching the chase eagerly.
Now and then it would seem as if the Scorpion, which craft was by long odds the swiftest of the fleet, gained on the stranger, and our hopes rose accordingly; but only to be dashed a short time later when the Britisher recovered her lost ground, darting ahead at such a pace as threatened to give her an advantage that could not be overcome.
The chase headed for the Canadian shore on first discovering our squadron; but, fearing most likely that we might cut her off on the west and east, she soon hauled around on a course directly up the lake.
Then, when our vessels were strung out in a line, she came about, actually doubling on us until headed for the North Foreland.
Signals were set for the fleet to make for the Canadian shore, and we were no more than on a new course when the stranger hauled around once more, this time making directly for Put-in-Bay.
“She counts on givin’ us the slip among the islands,” old Silas said late in the day, when it was certain the Britisher could not safely make another turn, because orders had been given for our vessels to take such a course as would cut her off from any more twisting and turning.