Chapter 20 - Page 2

mouth of the bay was something like thirty miles. Of course,
eight hours would be necessary to carry the frigate over the intervening
space should the wind stand, as it probably would not, at that season of
the year. A week later, and strong southerly winds might be expected,
but that week was as interminable as an age, for any present purpose.

Half-an-hour's trial satisfied all on the deck of the Proserpine, that
the chase was keeping off, like themselves, and that she was standing
toward the mountains of Amalfi. Her progress, too, was about equal to
that of the frigate, for, dead before the wind, the latter ship was
merely a good sailer; her great superiority commencing only when she
brought the breeze forward of the beam. It has been supposed that the
stranger, when first seen, was about fifteen miles distant, his canvas
appearing both small and shapeless; but some doubts now began to be
entertained, equally as to his rig, his size, and his distance. If a
large or a lofty vessel, of course he must be materially further off,
and if a large or lofty vessel it could not be le Feu-Follet.

The other frigate took her cue from the Proserpine, and stood across for
the northern side of the gulf; a certain proof that nothing was visible,
from her mast-heads, to lead her in any other direction. Two hours,
however, satisfied all on board the latter ship that they were on a
wrong scent, and that the vessel to leeward was their own consort, the
sloop; Lyon having, in his eagerness to get the prize before she could
be seen from the other ships, carried the Ring-dove quite within the
bay, and thus misled Cuffe and Sir Frederick.

"There can no longer be any doubt!" exclaimed the captain of the
Proserpine, dropping his glass, with vexation too strongly painted in
his manner to be mistaken; "that is a ship; and, as you say, Winchester,
it must be the Ringdove; though what the devil Lyon is doing away in
there with her, unless he sees something close under the land, is more
than I can tell. As there is clearly nothing in this quarter, we will
stand on, and take a look for ourselves."

This nearly destroyed the hope of success. The officers began to suspect
that their lookout on Campanella had been deceived, and that what he had
supposed to be a lugger was, in truth, a felucca, or perhaps a xebec--a
craft which might well be mistaken for a lugger, at the distance of a
few leagues. The error, however, was with those in the ship. The officer
sent upon the heights was a shrewd, practised master's-mate, who knew
everything about his profession that properly came within his line, and
knew little else. But for a habit of drinking, he would long since have
been a lieutenant, being, in truth, an older