Rayner—for such he ought now to be called—who was in the middle watch, was standing forward on the look-out, and, as may be supposed, he did not allow an eye to wink. Several times he thought that he could see two dark objects rising above the horizon, but his imagination might have deceived him, for they, at all events, grew no larger. When his watch was over, he came aft into the midshipmen’s berth, where several of his messmates were collected. He might have turned in, for the night was drawing on, but there were still two hours to daylight. He, as well as others, dropped asleep with their heads on the table.
They were aroused from their uncomfortable slumbers by the boatswain’s call, piping the hammocks up, and on coming on deck the first thing they saw were the two ships they had been chasing all night directly ahead, their topsails just rising above the water. Their hopes revived that they would come up with them before the day was many hours older; still the strangers were a long way out of range of their bow chasers.
As the sun rose and shone on their own canvas they knew that they must be clearly seen, and it was hoped that the two ships would, if their captains were inclined to fight, heave to and await their coming.
Such, however, it was evidently the intention of the Frenchman not to do, for it was seen that studding-sails were being set below and aloft.
“Still they may not have the heels of us,” observed Captain Martin to the first lieutenant; “and before they get into Cherbourg we may be up to them.”
It was thought that as the day advanced the wind might increase, but in this Captain Martin was disappointed. At length, towards evening, Cape La Hogue and the coast of France, to the westward of Cherbourg, appeared in sight. In a few hours it was too probable that the French ships would get safe into port.
Remarks not over complimentary to the valour of the Frenchmen were made by the crews of the English frigates, when they saw that the enemy had escaped them; but as Jack observed, “There’s no use grumbling; the mounseers have got away from us because they knew the tremendous drubbing we would have given them.”
“Perhaps we may see them again before long,” said Tom, his courage returning now that all danger of an encounter had passed. “Depend on it, our captain will do his best to give them a taste of our quality.”
Tom was right; for although the Thisbe and Venus had to haul their wind, and stand off shore, a bright look-out was kept, in the hopes that the French frigates might again put to sea.
Day after day passed, and at length the Venus parted company from the Thisbe. The latter frigate was standing across Channel when a lugger was sighted, to which she gave chase. The stranger at first made all sail, as if to escape. She was at length seen to heave to. On coming up with her, it was at first doubtful whether she was English or French, but as the frigate approached she hoisted English colours and lowered a boat, which in a short time came alongside, and a fine, intelligent-looking man stepping upon deck, announced himself as master of the lugger. He had, he said, at first taken the Thisbe for a French frigate which was in the habit of coming out of Cherbourg every evening, picking up any prizes she could fall in with, and returning next morning with them into port. He had, indeed, narrowly escaped once before.