Every man on board had to work at racehorse speed, for the captain was always on the alert. Everything and everybody about him must be the fastest and best possible.
Although the war ships had started almost as soon as the privateer, they were nowhere in sight.
"Sail ho!"
The alarm was given by Scarron.
"Whereaway?"
"I see it, captain," said Tempest, pointing to a white speck on the horizon.
The captain took the glass and looked long and earnestly in the direction.
"She is in cruising canvas only. Most probably a merchantman," he said, as he handed the glass to Tempest.
"No, captain, she is a war ship, and British at that."
"Think so?"