At length dawn broke, and the mist assumed that silvery hue which showed that the sun was about once more to rise above the horizon. All hands were on deck, employed in the morning duties of a man-of-war’s crew.
The sails which had hitherto hung down against the masts gave several loud flaps, then gradually bulged out, and the ship obtaining steerage way, once more glided slowly onwards.
Harry sent a midshipman forward to see that the look-outs had their eyes open.
Suddenly the fog lifted.
“A sail on the lee-bow,” shouted the midshipman. “A lugger close-hauled standing across our course, sir.”
At that moment the captain came on deck.
“She shows no colours,” again shouted the midshipman.
“We will speak her whatever she is,” observed the captain.
The order was given to trim sails, and the corvette was steered so as to cut off the lugger should she continue on her present course.
Those on board the stranger only just then discovered the ship of war, and instead of continuing on close-hauled as before, she stood away with her sheets eased off to the southward.