“I’ll hold on ten minutes longer,” the skipper said.  “Every half mile counts.”

But before that time was up, the sails were one after another reefed, for the wind continued to freshen.  The sky was still cloudless, but there was a misty light in the air, and a heavy sea was beginning to run.

Suddenly, a gun flashed out from the cutter.  The skipper uttered an oath.  Their pursuer was more than three miles astern, and he knew that she could only be firing as a signal.

There were several large ships in sight on their way up or down the Channel.  To these, little attention had been paid.  The skipper shaded his eyes with a hand, and gazed earnestly at a large ship on the weather beam, some four miles away.

“That is a frigate, sure enough,” he exclaimed.  “We are fairly caught between them.

“Haul in the sheets, lads, we will have a try for it yet.”

The lugger was brought sharp up into the wind, and was soon staggering along seaward, with the lee bulwark almost under water.  The cutter instantly lowered her square sail, and followed her example, continuing to fire a gun every minute.  All eyes were turned towards the frigate, which was now on the port beam.

“We shall cross two miles to windward of her,” the skipper said.  “If she keeps on her course, a quarter of an hour will do it, but she is sure to notice the guns.  The wind will take them down to her.

“Ah, there she goes.”

As he spoke, a puff of smoke darted out from the frigate’s bow.  Her sails fluttered, and her head bore round, until she was on the same tack as the lugger.

The latter was now about equidistant from her two pursuers.  The cutter and the lugger were nearly abreast, but the former, being to windward, could edge down.  The frigate was three miles to leeward, but she was fully a mile ahead.

“There is no way out of it,” the skipper said bitterly.  “In a light wind we could run away from the frigate, but with this breeze we have no chance with her.  Look how she is piling on sail!”

The crew shared the captain’s opinion.  Some shook their fists and cursed vainly at their pursuers, some stood sullenly scowling, while the French portion of the crew gave way to wild outbursts of rage.  Rapidly the three vessels closed in towards each other, for the cutter edged in so rapidly that the lugger was obliged to bear off towards the frigate again.  As a last hope, the lugger’s course was changed, and she again tried running, but the superior weight and power of the frigate brought her rapidly down.  Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and a shot came dancing along the water, a hundred yards away.

“Lower the sails,” the skipper said.  “It is no use going farther.  The inside of a prison is better than the bottom of the sea, anyhow.”

Down came the sails, and the lugger lay rolling heavily in the waves, as the frigate bore down upon her with a white roll of water on her stem.