In a few minutes the vessels for the second time parted company.
“I wonder why the Captain did not ask him about his flying the English flag,” I remarked to Lieutenant Ogilby, to whom I had been relating what had occurred in the cabin.
“He must have forgotten it,” that officer said.
“Oh, the papers being straight, he doubtless thought it none of his business,” chimed in Lieutenant Stiles, who joined us at that moment.
Three days later we were off Cape Cod when our lookout again called out:
“Ship in sight, sir, two points off our starboard quarter.”
“Not the ship Peggy this time is it, Jake?” inquired Lieutenant Stiles, for again he happened to be in charge of the deck, while the same old salt was in the cross-trees.
“Yes, sir,” was the unexpected response. “Ship Peggy, that is what she is, sir; and she has the British flag at her peak, and is sailin’ to round the cape. Guess she’s goin’ to New York this time, sir.”
Lieutenant Stiles went up the mast at a bound, and gazed at the sail through his glass for some minutes. Then he came down as rapidly as he had gone up, and said to me as he passed on his way to the cabin:
“It’s she, Master Dunn, and she’s changed her flag again now that she has discovered our approach.”