into the bay, she had stretched so far over toward the eastern shore as, by this time, to be quite two miles distant; and as the lugger rounded the promontory close under its rocks, to avoid the shot of the batteries above, she left, in less than five minutes, her enemy that space directly astern.  Nor was this all.  It would have been dangerous to fire as well as useless, on account of the range, since the lugger lay nearly in a line between her enemy’s chase guns and the residence of the vice-governatore.  It only remained, therefore, for the frigate to commence what is proverbially “a long chase,” viz. “a stern chase.”

All that has just been related may have occupied ten minutes; but the news reached Andrea Barrofaldi and his counsellors soon enough to allow them to appear on the promontory in time to see the Ving-y-Ving pass close under the cliffs beneath them, still keeping her English colors flying.  Raoul was visible, trumpet in hand; but as the wind was light, his powerful voice sufficed to tell his story.

“Signori,” he shouted, “I will lead the rascally republican away from your port in chase; that will be the most effectual mode of doing you a service.”

These words were heard and understood, and a murmur of applause followed from some, while others thought the whole affair mysterious and questionable.  There was no time to interpose by acts, had such a course been contemplated, the lugger keeping too close in to be exposed to shot, and there being, as yet, no new preparations in the batteries to meet an enemy.  Then there were the doubts as to the proper party to assail, and all passed too rapidly to admit of consultation or preconcert.

The movement of le Feu-Follet was so easy, as to partake of the character of instinct.  Her light sails were fully distended, though the breeze was far from fresh; and as she rose and fell on the long ground-swells, her wedge-like bows caused the water to ripple before them like a swift current meeting a sharp obstacle in the stream.  It was only as she sank into the water, in stemming a swell, that anything like foam could be seen under her forefoot.  A long line of swift-receding bubbles, however, marked her track, and she no sooner came abreast of any given group of spectators than she was past it—­resembling the progress of a porpoise as he sports along a harbor.

Ten minutes after passing the palace, or the pitch of the promontory, the lugger opened another bay, one wider and almost as deep as that on which Porto Ferrajo stands, and here she took the breeze without the intervention of any neighboring rocks, and her speed was essentially increased.  Hitherto, her close proximity to the shore had partially becalmed her, though the air had drawn round the promontory, making nearly a fair wind of it; but now the currents came fully on her beam, and with much more power.  She hauled down her tacks, flattened in her sheets, luffed, and was soon out of sight, breasting up to windward of a point that formed the eastern extremity of the bay last mentioned.