Day had just broken on the world of waters. It was at that time of the
year when there is but little night. The water was smooth, the air soft
and balmy. Gradually the grey dawn warmed up as the approaching sun
cast some ruddy streaks in the eastern sky. It was True Blue's watch on
deck, and he was at his post on the truck at the main-topgallant-mast.
By slow degrees the rich glow increased. He turned his head round to
every point of the compass. The Start Point was just in sight, bearing
about east by north, distant five or six leagues. When his eye came to
the south-east, it rested there steadily for a moment, and then, putting
his hand to his mouth, he shouted, "Sail ho!" with a prolonged cadence,
pointing in the direction where he saw her. The officer of the watch
hailed to know what she was. "A full-rigged ship, sir," was his
unhesitating reply, although even from where he stood her
topgallant-sails alone could be seen, and to a landsman's eye nothing
distinguishable would have been visible.
The Captain soon came on deck. True Blue kept his glance on the
stranger, that he might note immediately any change in her course. She
was standing across the Channel and drawing nearer.
"I trust that she is one of the frigates of which we are in search, Mr
Brine," said the Captain. "We'll soon learn. Make sail on the ship."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the first lieutenant with alacrity. "All hands make
sail!"
"All hands make sail!" shouted the boatswain, putting his silver call to
his mouth, and sounding a shrill whistle. "All hands make sail!--rouse
up there, rouse up!--an enemy in sight, boys!"
The men sprang from their hammocks, and, shaking themselves rapidly into
their clothes, were in another instant on deck. Every inch of canvas
the frigate could carry was soon got on her, and she bore up in chase.