"'All hands make sail,' instantly followed, and in five minutes we ran off the wind, with every rag set that we could spread. A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and although our friend a-head set nothing as we neared him that he had not abroad before, the next morning broke, and we were still three miles astern of him: Jamaica being in sight to leeward. As the sun rose, the breeze freshened, and before noon we had to hand the royals, and stand by the studding-sail haulyards. The fiery sea-breeze that struck us, presently quelled the courage of the chase, for he had to take in his kites also, with the loss of his foretopmast-studding-sail; and as we carried the breeze down with us, we were presently alongside, and I was sent on board in the boat.
"I touched my hat to the master, 'What brig, if you please?'
"'The Stormy Peterel, of, and from St John's, New Brunswick.'
"'Whither bound?'
"'To Kingston, Jamaica, with a cargo of flour and notions, consigned to Macaa, Walker, and Co.'
"All very pat, thought I—no hesitation here. 'I will look at your papers, if you please,' and I unceremoniously stepped down the companion ladder, and entered the cabin. The master of the brig followed me, entering with a good deal of swagger in his bearing, and slammed himself down on the locker with his hat on. I was a little nettled at this, and again took a steady look at my gentleman; but to make evident the cause why my suspicions were excited, be it known, that at the time I write of, the old navigation laws were in full operation; and no American, or other foreign vessel, was allowed to trade with our colonies; every thing imported having to be carried in British bottoms; so that numberless tricks were frequently put in practice by neutrals when the colonial markets were favourable, to cloak the real character of their vessels,—amongst others, that of simulating English papers was very frequent. To return, I looked at our friend again. He was tall, sallow, and Yankee-looking in hull, spars, and rig, and his accent smelt of peach brandy—strong of the Chesapeake. He was dressed in faded nankeen trowsers, rusty black coat and waiscoat, all very threadbare, the coat sleeves scarcely reaching below the elbows. He wore a broad-brimmed white hat, with a rumpled and spray-washed black or rather brown crape twisted round it, but no neckcloth, his shirt collar, which was cut very high, being open in front, disclosing his long scraggy red neck, with a lump in his throat as if he had swallowed a grape shot, that had stuck half way down. His large ill-washed frill was also open, showing his sunburnt chest, covered with a fell of shaggy red hair, as thick as a fox-cover, and his face was burned red by exposure to the sun, the skin peeling off in small pieces like the film of an egg, here and there. His features were very strongly marked and coarse, one side of his mouth drooping more than the other, from which he kept swabbing the stream of tobacco juice with the back of his hand. He had little fierce grey eyes, the white being much bloodshot, and his nose was long and sharp, as near as might be of the shape and colour of a crab's claw, with a blue peeled point. But the most curious part of the animal was the upperworks—the forehead being very broad immediately above his eyes, which were shaded by enormous shaggy sandy-white eyebrows, like pig's bristles, it then tapered away into a cone at the crown of his head, like the hat in vogue amongst the Roundheads in old Noll's time. His red whiskers grew in two tufts low down on his jowls and all under his chin, and he kept spitting most abominably, and twitching the right cheek, and quivering the right eyelid, while he looked at you, in a nervous, and to me exceedingly disagreeable manner. He had, in fine, nothing of the sailor whatever in his appearance—being more like a half-pay Methodist parson.
"'There be my papers, sir,' said this enticing person, tossing down a parcel of by no means dirty manuscripts. The register especially, as well as the manifest, seemed surprisingly clean, and the former, instead of being carefully enclosed in a tin box, as customary in merchant vessels, was wrapped up in brown paper. I opened the manifest, and glanced at a bundle of copies of bills of lading, called ship's blanks. The cargo answered his description, and the bills of lading seemed to correspond with the manifest. I then lifted the register, and by it perceived that the vessel purported to be two years old, yet the document, in place of being torn and chafed at the foldings, and dirty, greasy, and defaced, was quite sound.—When I opened it, after unfolding the brown paper in which it was wrapped, and threw it on the table, it absolutely and truly opened of itself, and lay flat on the table, as if unused to the rumples and creases—to the no small surprise of Jonathan himself I could perceive—thus seeming to say, 'Take a look at me, Master Donovan, I am worth the perusal, perhaps.'—'Ha, ha,' thought I, 'my fine fellow, the creases in that register are very fresh, I guess—it has not been quite two years folded, or I never saw the Liffey;' but I said never a word aloud, to the apparent great comfort of the skipper, who, I could see, sat on thorns, while I was overhauling the papers—for, thinks I, if he sees into me, he will haul his wind, and not come to an entry at Kingston at all, and on the high seas I cannot touch him; but then, again, as the devil would have it, were we even to decoy him into port, another man-of-war may nab him before us. My game, said I to myself, is to lull his suspicions as well as I can; and having done so, I returned to the frigate, and we ran down to Port Royal very lovingly together.
"They had caught a shark during my absence, and found a tin case, loaded with a dozen musket balls, with a ship's manifest and register in it, in his maw. I lost no time in repairing to the cabin, and communicating to the captain my suspicions that the brig was an American, sailing under false papers; recommending that the frigate should stick close and seize him whenever he had passed the Rubicon by reporting at the fort at Port Royal. He agreed to all my suggestions; and after determining that I was to board and seize the vessel before others could have an opportunity of doing so, ordered in dinner, and laughing, threw the bright white iron case to me that had been cut out of the maw of the shark.
"I opened it, and, to my surprise, found that, according to the best of my recollection, the manuscript copy of the manifest answered word for word, nail for nail, with the one I had seen—the measurement of the Yankee brig Alconda being identically the same, out and out, with that of the 'Stormy Peterel of St John's, New Brunswick.'
"Having communicated the coincidence to the captain, he desired me to keep my own counsel, which I did. The vessel was seized and libelled in the Vice-Admiralty Court, to the great apparent surprise of Captain Shad of the Stormy Peterel, I guess. The day of trial arrived; we were all in court, and so were the crew and captain of the detained vessel. Our counsel, learned in the law, made his speech, and produced his witnesses. He of the adverse faction replied, and produced his, and cross-questioned ours, and pretty considerable perjuries were flying about; and although the suspicion was strong against the Stormy Peterel, still she was on the point of flying away and weathering us all, when the lawyer retained by the merchantman said sneeringly across the table to our advocate, 'Sorry must go for damages against your client; I hope you have your recognisances and bail-bond ready.'