t, you'll never make _that_ out," muttered the master. "The
Folly has more folly about her than I give her credit for, if _we_ get
another look at her this summer."

"What do you make of him, Captain Cuffe?" Yelverton eagerly demanded.

"Just what I told you, sir--'tis the lugger--and--I cannot be
mistaken.--Aye, by Jove, she is coming down before it, wing-and-wing,
again! That's her play, just now, it would seem, and she does not appear
to have got enough of it yet."

An attentive look satisfied Yelverton that his commander was right. Even
the master had to confess his error, though he did it ungraciously and
with reluctance. It was the lugger, of a certainty, though so dimly seen
as to render it difficult at moments, to trace her outlines at all. She
was running in a line that would carry her astern of the frigate about a
mile, and she was rather more than thrice that distance to windward.

"She cannot see us," said Cuffe, thoughtfully, "Beyond a doubt she
thinks us to windward, and is endeavoring to get out of our
neighborhood. We must get round, gentlemen, and now is a favorable
moment. Tack ship, at once, Mr. Yelverton--I think she'll do it."

The experiment was made, and it succeeded. The Proserpine worked
beautifully, and Yelverton knew how to humor her to a nicety. In five
minutes the ship was round, with everything trimmed on the other
tack;--close-reefed mizzen, and double-reefed fore and maintop-sails--a
reefed mainsail, with other sails to suit. As she was kept a rap full,
or a little off, indeed, to prevent the lugger from slipping past, she
might have gone from five to six knots.

The next five minutes were intensely interesting to the people of the
Proserpine. The weather became thicker, and all traces of le Feu-Follet
were lost. Still, when last seen, she was wing-and-wing, flying rather
than sailing down toward their own track. By Cuffe's calculation, the
two vessels would nearly meet in less than a quarter of an hour, should
neither alter her course. Several guns were got ready, in preparation
for such a rencontre.

"Let the weather hold thick a few minutes longer, and we have her!"
cried Cuffe. "Mr. Yelverton, you must go down and see to those guns
yourself. Plump it right into her, if you're ordered to fire. The fellow
has no hamper, and stripping him must be a matter of pure accident. Make
it too hot for him on deck, and he'll have to give up, Raoul Yvard or
the d--l!"

"There she is, sir!"