When the idlers of the Proserpine appeared on deck the following morning, the ship was about a league to windward of Capri, having forged well over toward the north side of the bay during the night, wore round and got thus far back on the other tack.  From the moment light returned lookouts had been aloft with glasses, examining every nook and corner of the bay, in order to ascertain whether any signs of the lugger were to be seen under its bold and picturesque shore.  So great is the extent of this beautiful basin, so grand the natural objects which surround it, and so clear the atmosphere, that even the largest ships loom less than usual on its waters; and it would have been a very possible thing for le Feu-Follet to anchor near some of the landings, and lie there unnoticed for a week by the fleet above, unless tidings were carried to the latter by observers on the shore.

Cuffe was the last to come on deck, six bells, or seven o’clock, striking as the group on the quarter-deck first lifted their hats to him.  He glanced around him, and then turned toward Griffin, who was now officer of the watch.

“I see two ships coming down the bay, Mr. Griffin,” he said—­“no signals yet, I suppose, sir?”

“Certainly not, sir, or they would have been reported.  We make out the frigate to be the Terpsichore, and the sloop, I know by her new royals, is the Ringdove.  The first ship, Captain Cuffe, brags of being able to travel faster than anything within the Straits!”

“I’ll bet a month’s pay the Few-Folly walks away from her on a bowline, ten knots to her nine.  If she can do that with the Proserpine, she’ll at least do that with Mistress Terpsichore.  There goes a signal from the frigate now, Mr. Griffin, though a conjuror could hardly read it, tailing directly on as it does.  Well, quartermaster, what do you make it out to be?”

“It’s the Terpsichore’s number, sir; and the other ship has just made the Ringdove’s.”

“Show ours, and keep a sharp lookout; there’ll be something else to tell us presently.”

In a few minutes the Terpsichore expressed a wish to speak the Proserpine, when Cuffe filled his main-topsail and hauled close upon a wind.  An hour later the three ships passed within hail of each other, when both the junior commanders lowered their gigs and came on board the Proserpine to report.

Roller followed in the first cutter, which had been towed down by the Terpsichore.

The Terpsichore was commanded by Captain Sir Frederick Dashwood, a lively young baronet, who preferred the active life of a sailor to indolence and six thousand a year on shore; and who had been rewarded for his enterprise by promotion and a fast frigate at the early age of two and twenty.  The Ringdove was under a master-commandant of the name of Lyon, who was just sixty years old, having worked his way up to his present rank by dint of long and arduous services, owing his last commission and his command to the accident of having been a first lieutenant at the battle of Cape St. Vincent.  Both these gentlemen appeared simultaneously on the quarter-deck of the Proserpine, where they were duly received by the captain and all the assembled officers.