trolled up with two of the middies to the top of a
hill just before the sun went down. He had taken a glass with him.
Just as the night was falling, a middy on our quarter-deck, who was
looking at the shore with a glass, said to the second lieutenant, who
was on watch:

"'Look, sir; here comes Mr. Jones with Keen and Hobart down that hill
as if he were running a race. He isn't likely to be racing the
middies. What can he be after?'

"'No,' the second lieutenant said, with a smile; 'Mr. Jones is hardly
likely to be racing the middies'; which, indeed, was true enough, for
the first lieutenant was as stiff as a ramrod--a good officer, but as
strict a martinet as ever I sailed under.

"The second lieutenant took the glasses, and saw that, whatever the
reason might be, it was as the midshipman had said. The news that Mr.
Jones was coming down the hill, running as if Old Nick was after him,
soon spread, and there was quite an excitement on the quarter-deck as
to what could be the matter.

"Ten minutes afterwards the gig was seen coming off to the ship, and
it was evident, by the way the spray was flying and the oars bending,
that the men were pulling as if for life or death. By this time the
news had spread through the ship, and the captain himself was on the
quarter-deck.

"'Give me the speaking-trumpet,' he said, and as the boat came within
call he shouted, 'What's the matter, Mr. Jones? Is anything wrong?'

"'I've sighted,' the lieutenant said, standing up and making a trumpet
with his two hands, 'two craft together round the point of the island
some fifteen miles at sea. They're low down on the sea-line, but by
their look I think that one is the _Seamew_ and the other a
merchantman she has captured.'

"Not a moment was lost. The captain gave the orders sharp and quick.
The men, who were all standing about, were in a minute clustering on
the yards, and never was canvas got on a ship faster than it was on
the _Alert_ that evening. Before the boat was fairly run up to the
davits the anchor was at the cat-head, and the _Alert's_ bows were
pointing seawards. Five minutes afterwards, with every stitch of
canvas set, we were running out of the harbor. The first lieutenant
had taken the bearings pretty accurately, and as there was a brisk
evening breeze blowing we spun along at a famous rate. By this time it
was dark, and we had every hope that we might come upon the pirate
before she had finished transferring the cargo