to become of me. Poor
father must have given me up for dead long ago. Shall I ever get to
him?"

With many a "Yo! heave ho!" the sailors set about raising the anchor,
the schooner's broad wings were hoisted to catch the breeze already
blowing, and soon she was speeding away southward toward Boston.

They had just got well under way when, happening to glance around,
Eric, who was standing in the bow enjoying the swift rush of the
schooner through the foaming water, noticed a number of the wreckers
and the crew gathered about the captain on the poop. They were
examining something very carefully through his telescope. Following
the direction of the glass, Eric could make out a dark object rising
out of the water, several miles away on the port side. This was
evidently the cause of the men's concern. Almost unconsciously he drew
near the group, in order to hear what they were saying. The captain
just then handed the telescope to Evil-Eye.

His face darkened with rage as he said, "It's one of those British
brigs, and no mistake, and she's running right across our course. If
we keep on this way we'll fall right into her clutches. Look you,
Evil-Eye, and see if I'm not right."

Evil-Eye took the glass and looked long and carefully. It was clear
enough that he came to the same conclusion as the captain, for one of
his most hideous scowls overspread his countenance as he growled out,--

"It's the brig, and no mistake, and we're running straight into her
jaws. We'll have to go about and sail off shore, captain."

At once the captain roared out his orders, and the sailors sprang to
obey. There was a rattling of blocks, a creaking of booms, a fierce
flapping of canvas. After a moment's hesitation in the eye of the
wind, the schooner gracefully fell off, and was soon gliding away on
the other tack, with the brig now almost directly astern.

Whatever doubt there may have been on board the brig as to the
propriety of pursuing the schooner was dissipated by its sudden change
of course; and, still distant though she was, a keen eye could make out
that they were hoisting additional sails and making every effort to
overtake the schooner.

There were yet three hours of daylight, and the brig was evidently a
fast sailer. The schooner's chance of escape lay in keeping her well
astern until night came on, and then, by a sudden change of course,
slipping away from her in the darkness.

Every inch of canvas the schoone