"The one at which you have been looking steadily for half an hour, the sail appearing yonder on the horizon."
Barthelemy now, for the first time, noticed a vessel whose outlines had blended with the ship seen in his dream, and which seemed to be swiftly approaching.
"Oho! Off with the Fox-Hound!" he cried. "Forward, my lads!"
"Not to-night," shouted one of the crew from the other ship, "the Royal Fortune ought to go. You have drunk enough, we are sober; and even my grandfather's spook wouldn't fight sober."
"What talk is this?"
"The talk that came to us to-night from the rum and sugar, when even the fish got punch from the Royal Fortune."
"You rascals, do I manufacture sugar and brandy that you ask me for it? When the supply is exhausted, get more. Wherever a Portuguese galleon appears on the horizon, you can find all the sugar you want. Follow her and drink your fill."
Meanwhile the vessel had come so near that they could count all her sails in the bright moonbeams; then she tacked and began to recede.
"Follow her!" shouted Barthelemy; "See, she has discovered us and wants to escape. Skyrme, quick, don't let her elude us. Up, up, to the chase my lads!"
The Fox-Hound instantly unfurled every sail; the crew of the larger ship, greedy for prey, rushed on her deck and, aided by a favorable wind, the pursuit of the unknown ship began, which, overhauled more and more by the Fox-Hound, soon disappeared with it below the horizon.