at
about half-way between us and it, becalmed like ourselves, there lay a
brig, which our telescopes informed us was the _Vestale_. On this fact
being decisively ascertained Mr Austin came up to me and said:

"There is your _bete noire_, the _Vestale_, once more, you see,
Hawkesley. I have been thinking a great deal about what you said to me
some time ago respecting her, and I have come to the conclusion that it
is quite worth our while to look into the matter, at least so far as
will enable us to judge whether your suspicions are wholly groundless or
not. If they are--if, in fact, the craft proves to be what she
professes herself--well and good; we can dismiss the affair finally and
for ever from our minds and give our undivided attention to other
matters. But I confess you have to a certain extent imbued me with your
own doubts as to the strict integrity of yonder brig; there are one or
two little matters you mentioned which escaped my notice end which
certainly have rather a suspicious appearance. I therefore intend--if
the craft is bound into the river like ourselves--to make an early
opportunity to pay her a visit on some pretext or other."

"Have you mentioned the matter to Captain Vernon yet, sir?" I inquired.

"No, not yet," was the reply. "I must have something a little more
definite to say before I broach the matter to him. But here comes the
breeze at last, a _sea_ breeze, too, thank Heaven! Man the braces fore
and aft; square away the yards and brail in the mizen. Hard up with
your helm, my man, and keep her dead away for the mouth of the river."

The faint blue line along the western horizon came creeping gradually
down toward us, and presently a catspaw or two ruffled the glassy
surface of the water for a moment and disappeared. Then a deliciously
cool and refreshing draught of air fanned our faces and swelled out the
light upper canvas for an instant, died away, came again a trifle
stronger and lasted for perhaps half a minute, then with a flap the
canvas collapsed, filled again, the sloop gathered way and paid off with
her head to the eastward; a bubble or two floated past her sides, a
faint ripple arose under her bows, grew larger, became audible, the
glassy surface of the water grew gently ruffled and assumed an exquisite
cerulean tint, the wheel began to press against the helmsman's hand, and
away we went straight for the mouth of the river--and the brig.

The breeze, gentle though it