n the three cruisers saw one another clearly; and
then they all sighted an approaching sail.

This was a full-bowed vessel, of quaint rig, heavy sheer, and
extraordinary build--a foreigner clearly, and an ancient one. She
differed from a lugger as widely as a lugger differs from a schooner,
and her broad spread of canvas combined the features of square and of
fore-and-aft tackle. But whatever her build or rig might be, she was
going through the water at a strapping pace, heavily laden as she was,
with her long yards creaking, and her broad frame croaking, and her deep
bows driving up the fountains of the sea. Her enormous mainsail upon the
mizzenmast--or mainmast, for she only carried two--was hung obliquely,
yet not as a lugger's, slung at one-third of its length, but bent to
a long yard hanging fore and aft, with a long fore-end sloping down to
midship. This great sail gave her vast power, when close hauled; and
she carried a square sail on the foremast, and a square sail on either
topmast.

"Lord, have mercy! She could run us all down if she tried!" exclaimed
Commander Nettlebones; "and what are my pop-guns against such beam?"

For a while the bilander seemed to mean to try it, for she carried on
toward the central cruiser as if she had not seen one of them. Then,
beautifully handled, she brought to, and was scudding before the wind in
another minute, leading them all a brave stern-chase out to sea.

"It must be that dare-devil Lyth himself," Nettlebones said, as the
Swordfish strained, with all canvas set, but no gain made; "no other
fellow in all the world would dare to beard us in this style. I'd lay
ten guineas that Donovan's guns won't go off, if he tries them. Ah, I
thought so--a fizz, and a stink--trust an Irishman."

For this gallant lieutenant, slanting toward the bows of the flying
bilander, which he had no hope of fore-reaching, trained his long
swivel-gun upon her, and let go--or rather tried to let go--at her. But
his powder was wet, or else there was some stoppage; for the only result
was a spurt of smoke inward, and a powdery eruption on his own red
cheeks.

"I wish I could have heard him swear," grumbled Nettlebones; "that would
have been worth something. But Bowler is further out. Bowler will cross
her bows, and he is not a fool. Don't be in a hurry, my fine Bob Lyth.
You are not clear yet, though you crack on like a trooper. Well done,
Bowler, you have headed him! By Jove, I don't understand t