At length, at ten o’clock on the morning of the 5th October, the welcome cry was again heard.  “Sail, oh—­h—­h!” was shouted from the masthead with a lengthened emphasis, as though the look-out would mark the unusual fact with a special note of admiration.  The stranger was dead to windward, and miles away, probably some seventeen or eighteen at the very least.  But not a moment was lost in starting in pursuit.  Steam was got up, sails furled, the vessel’s head brought round in the direction of the chase, and in less than half an hour from the first announcement of her appearance, the Sumter was dashing through the water at top-speed in pursuit.

The chase was long and animated.  At first starting the stranger had all the advantage of a stiff, steady breeze, whilst the Sumter was compelled to trust altogether to her powers of steaming; and the former, being a fine, fast vessel, appeared, if anything, rather to gain upon her pursuer.  Gradually, however, as the two vessels changed their relative bearings, the Sumter also was enabled to avail herself of her fore and aft canvas, and now she began to gain rapidly upon the chase.  Three hours and a quarter passed in this exciting contest; but at length the pursuer had come fairly within range, and the chase was over.  Up went the Stars and Stripes to the Sumter’s peak, and the usual pause of excited expectation ensued; when, after bungling awhile with his signal halyards, as though playing with his pursuer’s hopes and fears, the red ensign of England rose defiantly from the deck, and there was to be no prize after all.

Very indignant was the captain of the Spartan at being hove-to by a Yankee, and great was the amusement of the boarding officer as he was welcomed with the observation that “the Northerners were catching h——­”

“How so?” inquired he.

“Why by getting themselves so badly whipped by the Southerners.”

It was observed that the worthy speaker appeared somewhat surprised at the perfect good-humour and satisfaction with which the intelligence was received.

The night now set in wet and wild.  The wind increased to a moderate gale with a remarkably heavy sea, and violent rain-squalls passing at intervals over the vessel.  The little Sumter rolled and pitched about as though she, too, were weary of the long period of inaction, and determined to effect some kind of diversion on her own account.  Morning broke heavy and threatening, with the barometer at 29-87; and by noon it was blowing a whole gale, and the ship labouring so heavily that the ceremony of mustering the hands and reading the Articles of War, customary on the first Sunday of every month, was perforce dispensed with, and “Jack”—­as usual, when bad weather has fairly set in, and the ship has been made snug—­got his holiday.

Towards night the gale, which had hauled gradually round from E.N.E. to S.E. and S.S.E. in the course of some eight or ten hours, began to moderate.  By the next morning it had altogether broken, and though the clouds were still leaden, and the sea ran high after the blow of yesterday, the Sumter was once more able to make sail; and shaking the reefs out of her topsails, she stood away again towards the S.S.E.