“Ah, my friend! a stern chase is a long chase,” observed Dubois, who saw me watching the stranger. “You are not going to rejoin your ship just yet.”
“I have made up my mind to be content with whatever happens,” I said.
“You are wise,” answered Dubois. “It is the best thing under all circumstances.”
Still I did not despair of being overtaken. Perhaps she might be the Liffy herself, which had gone back to Jamaica, and was now returning to the south. We had a brisk breeze, though it did not increase, and the brig continued running on at her utmost speed. When I looked again, some time afterwards, it did not appear to me that the stranger had gained on us. The hours passed slowly on; evening, however, at length approached, and I was afraid that during the night Dubois would alter the brig’s course, and that we should manage to escape. When I went below for our meals, I endeavoured to maintain as calm a countenance as I could, and to appear as cheerful as usual.
“You are a brave garçon,” said Dubois, as we sat at supper. “We should be very sorry to lose your society, and I’ll endeavour to keep you on board as long as I can.”
I thanked him, and said that I hoped to have the satisfaction of returning his courtesy, should the tables once more be turned. At last darkness came on, and our pursuer was lost to sight. As it was useless to remain on deck, I turned in, and Larry as usual followed me below. Whether it was from the excitement I had gone through, or from having remained on deck all day, I cannot say; but I fell asleep immediately my head touched the pillow, and slept as soundly as a top. When I awoke, I saw by the dim light coming through the bull’s-eye that the day had broken, and I hurried on deck, anxious to know if our pursuer was still in sight Dubois and La Touche were there. I saluted them as usual. They did not appear quite as cheerful as they did on the previous day. The brig was still before the wind, with every stitch of canvas she could carry set. On looking astern, there was our pursuer, though hull down, but considerably nearer than before.
“Do not be too sanguine that she will come up with us. When the breeze freshens, we shall again get away from her,” said Dubois.
“It is of course what you wish, monsieur,” I observed.
“I’ve been after dreaming, Mr Terence, that that craft is the Liffy, and that we were again on board her, as merry as crickets,” said Larry, coming to my side.
“But dreams, they say, go by contraries,” I answered. “It would have been better not to have dreamed that.”