It was a trying time, for the provisions and water, in consequence of
the number of souls on board, had run short.

The captain was doubly anxious to get into port; still, do all he could,
but little progress was made, till one night the wind again shifted and
the sky cleared. The master was aware that the ship was farther over to
the French coast than was desirable, but her exact position it was
difficult to determine.

The first streaks of sunlight had appeared in the eastern sky, when the
look-out shouted--

"A ship to the southward, under all sail."

As the sun rose, his rays fell on the white canvas of the stranger,
which was now seen clearly, standing towards the _Foxhound_.

Captain Waring made a signal to the two prizes, which were somewhat to
the northward, to make all sail for Plymouth, while the _Foxhound_,
under more moderate canvas, stood off shore.

Should the stranger prove an enemy, of which there was little doubt,
Captain Waring determined to try and draw her away from the French
coast, which could be dimly seen in the distance. He, at the same time,
did not wish to make an enemy suppose that he was flying. Though ready
enough to fight, he would rather first have got rid of his prisoners,
but that could not now be done.

It was necessary, therefore, to double the sentries over them, and to
make them clearly understand that, should any of them attempt in any way
to interfere, they would immediately be shot.

Jack, Tom, and Bill had seen the stranger in the distance, and they
guessed that they should before long be engaged in a fierce fight with
her. There was no doubt that she was French. She was coming up
rapidly.

The captain now ordered the ship to be cleared for action. The men went
readily to their guns. They did not ask whether a big or small ship was
to be their opponent, but stood prepared to fight as long as the captain
and officers ordered them, hoping, at all events, to beat the enemy.

The powder-monkeys, as before, having been sent down to bring up the
ammunition, took their places on their tubs. Of course they could see
but little of what was going forward, but through one of the ports they
at last caught sight of the enemy, which appeared to be considerably
larger than the _Foxhound_.

"We have been and caught a Tartar," Bill heard one of the seamen
observe.

"Maybe. But whether Turk or Tartar, we'll beat him," answered another.

An order was passed along the de