The lugger was put before the wind, running considerably faster than she had hitherto been doing through the water. The corvette must have observed her change of course, as she also kept away, and once more her topgallant sails were loosed. It was too dark to observe how the masts stood the pressure.
“I only wish that they would set the royals; with this breeze there would be a good chance of the spars being carried away,” said Dore.
It was very doubtful whether the corvette was gaining on the lugger. Though the advancing night gradually shrouded her more and more in gloom, she could still be discerned, her canvas rising up like a dark phantom stalking over the ocean. The crew of the lugger stood at their stations, ready at a moment to obey their captain’s orders. He kept his eye on the topsails, though if blown away the accident would not be of much consequence. The masts were tough, and bent like willow wands.
“They’ll hold on as long as we want them now,” observed Dore. Again and again he looked astern. Presently he shouted, “Lower the topsails! Starboard the helm, Tom! Haul away at the starboard braces!” and the lugger, on the port tack, stood close hauled to the southward.
The sharpest eyes on board were turned in the direction their pursuer was supposed to be. Some time passed away.
“There she is!” cried Ben. “Although we see her, she doesn’t see us, as we are stern on, and much lower in the water than she is.”
Dick looked with all his might. He could just discern some object moving along over the water, but so indistinctly that he could not be certain it was a ship. Still, the commander of the corvette might suspect that the lugger had changed her course, and changed his also.
“All right!” cried Dore, after watching the phantom-like stranger in the distance, until she totally disappeared. “She’ll not catch us this cruise.”
The lugger was put about, on the starboard tack, and once more stood towards the English coast.
“Shall we be in to-morrow morning?” asked Dick.