The brigantine was now nearly up with the head of Blackwell’s.  It was half-flood, on a spring tide.  The reef that projects from the western end of the island far into the reach below, was nearly covered; but still enough was visible to show the nature of the barrier it presented to a passage from one shore to the other.  There was one rock, near the island itself, which lifted its black head high above the water.  Between this dark mass of stone and the land, there was an opening of some twenty fathoms in width.  The Skimmer saw, by the even and unbroken waves that rolled through the passage, that the bottom lay less near to the surface of the water, in that opening, than at any other point along the line of reef.  He commanded the helm a-weather, once more, and calmly trusted to the issue.

Not a man on board that brigantine was aware that the shot of the royal cruiser was whistling between their masts, and damaging their gear, as the little vessel glided into the narrow opening.  A single blow on the rock would have been destruction, and the lesser danger was entirely absorbed in the greater.  But when the passage was cleared, and the true stream in the other channel gained, a common shout proclaimed both the weight of their apprehension and their relief.  In another minute, the head of Blackwell’s protected them from the shot of their pursuers.

The length of the reef prevented the Coquette from changing her direction, and her draught of water closed the passage between the rock and the island.  But the deviation from the straight course, and the passage of the eddies, had enabled the ship, which came steadily on, to range up nearly abeam of her chase.  Both vessels, though separated by the long narrow island, were now fairly in the force of those currents which glide so swiftly through the confined passages.  A sudden thought glanced on the mind of the Skimmer, and he lost no time in attempting to execute its suggestion.  Again the helm was put up, and the image of the sea-green lady was seen struggling to stem the rapid waters.  Had this effort been crowned with success, the triumph of her followers would have been complete; since the brigantine might have reached some of the eddies of the reach below, and leaving her heavier pursuer to contend with the strength of the tide, she would have gained the open sea, by the route over which she had so lately passed.  But a single minute of trial convinced the bold mariner that his decision came too late.  The wind was insufficient to pass the gorge, and, environed by the land, with a tide that grew stronger at each moment, he saw that delay would be destruction.  Once more the light vessel yielded to the helm, and, with every thing set to the best advantage, she darted along the passage.

In the mean time, the Coquette had not been idle Borne on by the breeze, and floating with the current, she had even gained upon her chase; and as her lofty and light sails drew strongest over the land, there was every prospect of her first reaching the eastern end of Blackwell’s.  Ludlow saw his advantage, and made his preparations accordingly.