I found that there was a ship in sight, right a--head of us
apparently carrying all sail. A group of officers were on the forecastle
with night--glasses, the whole crew being stationed in dark clusters round
the guns at quarters. Several of the American skippers were forward
amongst us, and they were of opinion that the chase was a man--of--war,
although our own people seemed to doubt this. One of the skippers
insisted that she was the Hornet, from the unusual shortness of her lower
masts, and the immense squareness of her yards. But the puzzle was, if it
were the Hornet, why she did not shorten sail. Still this might be
accounted for, by her either wishing to make out what we were before she
engaged us, or she might be clearing for action. At this moment a whole
cloud of studdingsails were blown from the yards as if the booms had been
carrots; and to prove that the chase was keeping a bright look--out, she
immediately kept away, and finally bore up dead before the wind, under the
impression, no doubt, that she would draw a--head of us, from her gear
being entire, before we could rig out our light sails again.
And so she did for a time, but at length we got within gun--shot. The
American masters were now ordered below, the hatches were clapped on, and
the word passed to see all clear. Our shot was by this time flying over
and over her, and it was evident she was not a man--of--war. We peppered
away--she could not even be a privateer; we were close under her
lee--quarter, and yet she had never fired a shot; and her large swaggering
Yankee ensign was now run up to the peak, only to be hauled down the next
moment.
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