for stays!" cried Polwhele, under orders from Charron. "Down
helm! Helm's alee! Steady so. Let draw! Easy! easy! There she fills!"
And after a few more rapid orders the handy little craft was dashing
away, with the wind abaft the beam, and her head about two points north
of east. "Uncommon quick in stays!" cried Polwhele, who had taken to the
helm, and now stood there. "Wonder what Britishers will think of that?"

The British ship soon let him know her opinion, by a roar and a long
streak of smoke blown toward him, as she put up her helm to consider
the case. It was below the dignity of a fine frigate to run after little
smuggling craft, such as she voted this to be, and a large ship had been
sighted from her tops down channel, which might afford her nobler sport.
She contented herself with a harmless shot, and leaving the gun-brig to
pursue the chase, bore away for more important business.

"Nonplussed the big 'un; shall have trouble with the little 'un," said
Master Polwhele to his captain. "She don't draw half a fathom more than
we do. No good running inside the shoals. And with this wind, she has
the foot of us."

"Bear straight for her, and let her board us," Charron answered,
pleasantly. "Down with all French hands into the forepart of the hold,
and stow the spare foresail over them. Show our last bills of lading,
and ask them to trade. You know all about Cheeseman; double his prices.
If we make any cash, we'll divide it. Say we are out of our course,
through supplying a cruiser that wanted our goods for nothing. I shall
keep out of sight on account of my twang, as you politely call it. The
rest I may safely leave to your invention. But if you can get any ready
rhino, Sam Polwhele is not the man to neglect it."

"Bully for you!" cried the Yankee, looking at him with more admiration
than he expected ever to entertain for a Frenchman. "There's five ton
of cheeses that have been seven voyages, and a hundred firkins of Irish
butter, and five-and-thirty cases of Russian tongues, as old as old
Nick, and ne'er a sign of weevil! Lor' no, never a tail of weevil!
Skipper, you deserve to go to heaven out of West Street. But how about
him, down yonder?"

"Captain Carne? Leave him to me to arrange. I shall be ready, if they
intrude. Announce that you have a sick gentleman on board, a passenger
afflicted with a foreign illness, and having a foreign physician. Mon
Dieu! It is good. Every Englishman believes that anything fo