“You’re right, Captain Cuffe,” said Lyon; “though there can be no great innovation in sporting on Sir Frederick’s portion, if he see fit to indulge us.  Money is an agreeable acquisition beyond a doubt, and life is sweet to saint and sinner alike; but I much question your facility in persuading this Monshure Rawl to tell you his secret consairning the lugger, in the manner ye anticipate.”

This opinion met with no favor; and after discussing the point among themselves a little longer, the three captains were on the point of separating, when Griffin burst into the cabin without even knocking and altogether regardless of the usual observances.

“One would think it blew a typhoon, Mr. Griffin,” said Cuffe, coldly, “by the rate at which you run before it.”

“It’s an ill wind that blows no luck, sir,” answered the lieutenant, actually panting for breath, so great had been his haste to communicate what he had to say.  “Our lookout, on the heights above Campanella, has just signalled us that he sees the lugger to the southward and eastward—­somewhere near the point of Piane, I suppose, sir; and what is better, the wind is coming off shore earlier than common this evening.”

“That is news!” exclaimed Cuffe, rubbing his hands with delight.  “Go on deck, Griffin, and tell Winchester to unmoor; then make a signal to the other ships to do the same.  Now, gentlemen, we have the game in our own hands, and let us see and play it skilfully.  In a couple of hours it will be dark, and our movements can all be made without being seen.  As the Proserpine is, perhaps, the fastest ship”—­at this remark Sir Frederick smiled ironically, while Lyon raised his eyebrows like one who saw a marvel—­“as the Proserpine is, perhaps, the fastest ship, she ought to go the furthest to leeward; and I will get under way and stand off to sea, keeping well to the northward and eastward, as if I were running for the Straits of Bonifacio, for instance, until it gets to be dark, when I will haul up south for a couple of hours or so; then come up as high as southeast until we are to the southward of the Gulf of Salerno.  This will be before daylight, if the wind stand.  At daylight, then, you may look out for me off Piane, say two leagues, and to seaward, I hope, of the lugger.  You shall follow, Sir Frederick, just as the sun sets, and keep in my wake, as near as possible, heaving to, however, at midnight.  This will bring you fairly abreast of the gulf and about midway between the two capes, a little west of south from Campanella.  Lyon, you can lie here until the night has fairly set in, when you can pass between Capri and the cape and run down south two hours and heave to.  This will place you in a position to watch the passage to and from the gulf under the northern shore.”

“And this arrangement completed to your satisfaction, Captain Cuffe,” asked Lyon, deliberately helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff, “what will be your pleasure in the posterior evolutions?”