ve it its
nautical name--moved onward with what seemed exasperating
slowness, scarcely ruffling the polished waters of the bay.
The hours passed on. The miles lagged tardily behind. The
wind fell. The time crept towards midnight. The only life
visible in the wide landscape was that of the gliding ketch.

But any one who could have gained a bird's-eye view of the
vessel would have seen sufficient to excite his distrust of
that innocent-seeming craft. From the water-side only ten or
twelve men could be seen, but on looking downward the decks
would have been perceived to be crowded with men, lying down
so as to be hidden behind the bulwarks and other objects
upon the deck, and so thick that the sailors who were
working the vessel had barely room to move.

This appeared suspicious. Not less suspicious was the fact
that the water behind the vessel was ruffled by dragging
objects of various kinds, which seemed to have something to
do with her slowness of motion. As the wind grew lighter,
and the speed of the vessel fell until it was moving at
barely a two-knots' rate, these objects were drawn in, and
proved to be buckets, spars, and other drags which had been
towed astern to reduce the vessel's speed. Her tardiness of
motion was evidently the work of design.

It was now about ten o'clock. The moon hovered on the
western horizon, near its hour of setting. The wind was
nearly east, and favorable to the vessel's course, but was
growing lighter every moment. The speed of the ketch
diminished until it seemed almost to have come to rest. It
had now reached the eastern entrance to the bay, the passage
here being narrowed by rocks on the one hand and a shoal on
the other. Through this passage it stole onward like a
ghost, for nearly an hour, all around being tranquil,
nothing anywhere to arouse distrust. The craft seemed a
coaster delayed by the light winds in making harbor.

The gliding ketch had now come so near to the large vessel
in front, that the latter had lost its dimness of outline
and was much more plainly visible. It was evidently no
Moorish craft, its large hull, its lofty masts, its tracery
of spars and rigging being rather those of an English or
American frigate than a product of Tripolitan dock-yards.
Its great bulk and sweeping spars arose in striking contrast
to the low-decked vessels which could be seen here and there
huddled about the inner sides of the harbor.

A half-hour more passed. The ketch was now