The Pride of Ohio had made good two days of her homeward passage, when, in endeavouring to round a point on the southern coast of Cuba, Ethelston descried a ship some miles to windward, and a–head, which a careful examination through his glass convinced him was a French frigate. His mate being below at the time, he sent for him on deck, anxious to see whether the experienced sailor’s observation would confirm his opinion. As soon as he appeared, handing him the glass, he said, “Gregson, see what you make of that fellow on our larboard bow.”
“Make of her!” said the mate; “the devil take him that made her, and him that brought her athwart us, say I, captain! She’s a Frenchman; and though we can’t well see her hull yet, I doubt it won’t be long before we see her row of teeth.”
“I thought so myself,” said Ethelston. “We must hold our course steady; and if we can round the point, we may then bear away, and show her a pair of heels. Turn the hands up, Gregson; trim the sails, and stand by for a run. Put Harrison at the helm; he can keep her a point nearer than that youngster.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” was the reply; and having executed the order, he returned to Ethelston, who was still sweeping the southern horizon with his glass, and examining the strange ship, whose hull was now distinctly visible.
The young man’s countenance wore a grave expression, as, returning the glass to his mate, he said, “Gregson, it is, as we supposed, a French frigate. We may, perhaps, creep along under the shore without his noticing our small craft.”
The old seaman riveted the glass upon the stranger, as if he wished to count every sail and plank. During the examination, he grunted two or three inarticulate ejaculations, in unison with which his hard features underwent various contortions; and his young commander waited with no little impatience for what he called his “overhauling.”
“She’s neither more nor less than that infernal Epervier, commanded by L’Estrange. She’s one of the fastest sailers in their navy; and as for our creeping past her without being seen, he’s the wrong sort o’ man for that fun: herring or whale, all’s fish for his net!”
“I have often heard of him,” said Ethelston: “they say he’s a fine fellow.”
“That he is, to give the devil his due, as jolly an old dog as ever lived, and much too good a seaman for a mounseer. Look’ee there, captain,” added he, after another squint through the glass; “he’s altering his course already—two or three points free, and the reefs shaken out o’ the tops’ls. We shall hear from him soon.”
“Can we give him the slip by bearing up for the eastern passage?—We should then show him our tail; and a stern chase is a long one.”