verely crippled,
and anxious to punish an enemy who had so seriously injured the
service, several frigates were fitted out to cruise especially against
the American privateers; these were chosen with particular reference
to their speed, and one which was the admiration of every sailor in
the service, called the Arrow, had spoken the merchantman, just as it
was entering the channel, a few days after its capture by the Raker.
No definite information as to the present position of the privateer
could be obtained from the merchantman, but having learned her
bearings at the time she was lost sight of, the Arrow bent her course
in the same direction, confident that if he could once come in sight
of her he would find little difficulty in overhauling her.

It was a black, murky, windy day, with frequent gusts of rain, and a
thick fog circumscribed the horizon, narrowing the view to a few miles
in each direction. Toward evening the fog rose like a gathered cloud
to westward, leaving that part of the horizon cloudless, and shedding
down a bright light upon the waters. Had the look-out on the Arrow
been on the alert he might have seen, directly under this clear sky,
the topsails of the American privateer, but the honest sailor had just
spliced the main-brace, and having deposited a huge quid of tobacco in
his cheek, was lying over the crosstrees, in a state as completely
_abandon_ as a fop upon a couch in his dressing-room.

All on the Raker, however, were on the broad look out, they knew they
were nearing the shores of England, and liable at any time to come
within sight of an enemy's cruiser as well as merchantman.

Lieut. Morris had for some time been anxiously scanning the horizon
with his glass, and had caught sight of the frigate's topsails almost
as soon as the fog lifted. As Captain Greene's wounds still in a
great measure disabled him, the lieutenant still kept the command of
the privateer. Unable to determine whether he had been seen by the
frigate or not, he at once gave orders to bear off before the wind,
hoping that even if such were the case, his little brig would prove
superior in speed to the frigate.

As his brig wore off, with her white sails glittering in the flood of
light, the worthy look-out on the Arrow had just raised his head to
eject a quantity of the juice of the weed. His eyes caught sight of
the sails as they rose and fell like the glancing wings of a bird;
rubbing his eyes, he took another careful