Any one in the least acquainted with the movements of ships, will understand the advantage we now possessed.  The Dawn was beating through a good wide passage, with a young flood breasting her to windward, and a steady six-knot breeze blowing.  The passage between these islands and the main was about four leagues long, while that which the fishermen had wished us first to enter was near the middle of the group.  We were already a mile from the boat, and considerably to windward of her, the tide having done that much for us, when Mons. Le Gros saw fit to lift his kedge, and commence a new pursuit.  He had the sagacity to see that we should soon be obliged to tack, on account of the main coast, and to stand over towards the island, again:  accordingly, instead of following in our wake, he profited by the set of the current, and pulled directly to windward, with a view to cut us off.  All this we very plainly saw, but we cared very little for Mons. Le Gros and his boat.  The ship could out-sail the last, very easily, in such a breeze, and it was always in our power to tack in mid-channel, instead of crossing her, or coming near her, at all.  The frigate gave me much more trouble.

The Englishman, as I afterwards learned, was a French-built ship called the Fortunee; or, as Jack termed her, now she had got to be designated in the Anglo-Saxon dialect, the Fortu_nee_ which was liberally rendered into the vernacular as the “Happy-Go-Lucky.”  She was an old ship, but an exceedingly fast one, and her commander had rendered himself famous by the manner in which he ventured about on the French coast.  This was the third time he had gone through this very sound in spite of the batteries; and having some experience in the windings and turnings, he was now much better able to get along scatheless, than on the two former occasions.  As soon as he thought himself at a safe distance from the six-and-thirties, he hauled up, and made five short stretches near the main, where he had much the best of the tide, and the whole strength of the breeze, and where there was nothing to molest him; the usual roadstead being under the island of course.

The first hour sufficed to let me understand there was no chance of escaping the frigate; if we continued to beat up through the passage, we might reach its western end a little in advance of her it is true, but no hope at all of getting away, would remain when we again reached the open ocean, and she in-shore of us.  In this dilemma, Marble made one of his happy suggestions, my merit amounting to no more than seizing the right moment, and carrying out his idea with promptitude.  The passage first named lay in a line with us, and we had every reason to believe the ship could go through it.  When we were invited to enter, the tide was not as high by six feet, as it had now risen to be, and my mate suggested the expedient of trying it, in going out.

“The Englishman will never dare follow on account of the battery which lies on the side of it,” he added, “whereas the French will not fire at us, believing us to be escaping from a common enemy.”