a glass the flag, now
fallen, is just distinguishable from the mast along which it clings
closely. They can perceive that its colour is crimson above, with blue
and white underneath--the reversed order of the Chilian ensign. Its
single star is no longer visible, nor aught of that heraldry, which
spoke so appealingly. But if what they see fails to furnish them with
details, these are amply supplied by their excited imaginations. Some
of them can make out men aboard the barque--scores, hundreds! After
all, she may be a pirate, and the upside-down ensign a decoy. On a
tack, she might be a swifter sailer than she has shown herself before
wind; and, knowing this, has been but "playing possum" with the frigate.
If so, God help the cutter's crew?

Besides these conjectures of the common kind, there are those on the
frigate's fore-deck who, in very truth, fancy the polacca to be a
spectre. As they continue gazing, now at the boat, now at the barque,
they expect every moment to see the one sink beneath the sea; and the
other sail off, or melt into invisible air! On the quarter, speculation
is equally rife, though running in a different channel. There the
captain still stands surrounded by his officers, each with glass to his
eye, levelled upon the strange craft. But they can perceive nought to
give them a clue to her character; only the loose flapping sails, and
the furled flag of distress.

They continue gazing till the cutter is close to the barque's beam. For
then do they observe any head above the bulwarks, or face peering
through the shrouds!

The fancy of the forecastle seems to have crept aft among the officers.
They, too, begin to feel something of superstitious fear--an awe of the
uncanny!

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE CUTTER'S CREW.

Manned by ten stout tars, and as many oars propelling her, the cutter
continues her course with celerity. The lieutenant, seated in the
stern-sheets, with the midshipman by his side, directs the movements of
the boat; while the glances of both are kept constantly upon the barque.
In their eyes is an earnest expression--quite different from that of
ordinary interrogation.

The men may not observe it; if they do, it is without comprehension of
its meaning. They can but think of it as resembling their own, and
proceeding from a like cause. For although with backs turned towards
the barque, they cast occasional glances over their shoulders, in which
curiosity is less observa