“I will take care not to give him any cause of offence, for he is evidently not an amiable person,” thought Owen.
A few minutes afterwards the look-out at the masthead shouted—
“A sail on the weather bow!”
One of the officers immediately went aloft. On his return the bearings of the stranger were taken. She was a large ship, standing in for the land.
The frigate was immediately put about. The squall having blown over, all sail was made in chase. Many surmises were expressed as to what she was, but it was a general opinion that she was a French frigate.
“If she is, we shall have a fight, and take her too,” cried one of the men near whom Owen was standing.
“Little doubt about that, mates,” observed another.
Such were the expressions uttered by the crew. Owen felt as eager as any one. He had not come to sea to fight, but he knew that even on board the “Druid” they might have fallen in with an enemy and have had to defend themselves.
“Is there any chance of her getting away, Mr Hartley?” asked Nat, who never forgot their relative positions, though Owen treated him as a friend.
“No,” replied Owen; “for this frigate sails very fast, and from what I hear, Captain Stanhope is not likely to let an enemy escape him if he can help it.”