"Can you make out what she is?" continued the captain.
"I cannot; she must be eight or ten miles from us," replied Christy, as he glanced to the eastward.
"I shouldn't wonder if that was one of your Yankee gunboats," added Captain Flanger, spicing his remark with a heavy oath, for he could hardly say anything without interlarding his speech with profanity.
"It may be, for aught I know," replied the prisoner with something like a yawn.
"Whatever she is, the Snapper can run away from her, and you need not flatter yourself that there is any chance for you to escape from a Confederate prison; and when they get you into it, they will hold on very tight."
"I must take things as they come," added Christy.
He wanted to ask the captain why he wondered if the sail was a Yankee gunboat, but he did not think it would be prudent to do so. The captain seemed to have, or pretended to have, great confidence in the speed of the Snapper. When he left his prisoner he went to the engine-room, and it was soon evident from the jar and shake of the vessel that he had instructed the chief engineer to increase the speed.
Christy watched the distant sail for about three hours before he could come to any conclusion. At the end of this time he was satisfied that the three-masted steamer was gaining very decidedly upon the Snapper. He began to cherish a very lively hope that the sail would prove to be the Chateaugay. Captain Flanger remained on deck all the forenoon, and every hour that elapsed found him more nervous and excitable.
"I reckon that's a Yankee gunboat astern of us, Mr. Passford; but I am going to get away from her," said the captain, as they sat down to dinner.
"Is she gaining upon you, Captain?" asked Christy.