After breakfast on the second day the fog-bank lifted, and land was made out to the northwest. I heard one of the officers say that it was Montauk Point. A slight wind was stirring, and we sailed on, steering south by west, and by noon we had sunk the headland, and a cry came down from aloft that a sail was in sight to windward. We altered our course, and made in the direction of the stranger. An air of eagerness showed in the faces of the crew. I fairly believe that some of them began to count upon their share of prize-money. As the other vessel was approaching, soon we could see her from the deck.
She was bringing the wind with her, and had all sails set, stu'n'-sails and royals. Mr. Spencer went aloft, and took a squint from the cross-trees, through the glass. All hands were watching him, and the way he hastened down to the deck showed that he had something to communicate. This was evident, for immediately the Young Eagle was hove to, and then put before the wind.
"Old Kill Devil's changed his mind, I reckon," said Sutton, the foretopman, coming up to me. "And he wouldn't without good reason, you can bet a cotton hat. Now to my way of thinking, that vessel's an English frigate, unless it be one of our own, as the Johnnie Bulls generally sail in company."
It soon became evident that it was Temple's intention to give the on-comer as wide a berth as possible, for we spread every stitch we had, and steered a more westerly course. It was thick weather up aloft, and the sunlight barely filtered through it. But it was one of those days when distance is hard to judge, the sea one dead gray-green, with no flash or change in color, and nothing to tell whether the horizon was five miles off or twenty—nothing but the white sails of the approaching vessel, and occasionally a sight of the dark hull lifting underneath the canvas.
We were holding our own quite well, with perhaps a slight gaining on the pursuer, for such she had become, when the fog began to lower, or better, we ran into it. It thickened, and soon we could see nothing but the heaving water fading into a gray wall at a distance of a few hundred feet.
We took in our kites, and squaring the yards, changed our course to the northward. The interest was less intense now, owing to the other vessel being out of sight, and Captain Temple's evident intention was to give her the slip and let her pass to the southward of us. For two hours we sailed on. It had grown lighter overhead, as if all the clouds had settled down upon us; but occasionally we caught a glimpse of sunlight and blue sky.
I lay on my back against the bowsprit with my hands under my head. I was thinking of the strange life that I had led, and wondering what my uncle thought of my strange disappearance. Why had old Gaston pursued me to Stonington, and what a lugubrious figure he had presented standing there on the dock in that strange head-gear! Of course this brought me to thinking of Mary also, and I put my hand inside the bosom of my shirt. There was the rose that she had given me, and that I had carefully pinned in a wrapping of strong paper. But my thoughts were interrupted by a sudden commotion. A man who had been aloft for some reason or other, disentangling the color halyards, which had fouled the main-truck, if I remember right, suddenly gave a shout.
"Sail, ho, to windward!" he cried. And never have I seen a man get to deck so quickly. He jumped the last twelve feet off the ratlines to the deck, and ran aft. Temple and Mr. Edmundson came forward to meet him. What he said was heard distinctly.
"I can make out the topsails of a vessel above the fog, sir, not much above a mile to windward. She's bearing down upon us."
The way that Captain Temple tripped aloft showed that he was a topman, and one of the best. Edmundson, although a larger man, was not far behind them. And all hands watched them make their way to cross-trees and swarm up higher. Then we could see they were pointing. Quickly they descended to the deck. Mr. Spencer, and Bullard, and the prize-masters had all come on deck. The crew also were gathered amidships.