more the cruiser was so near as to admit of the faces of the three or four men whose heads were above the hammock-cloths being visible, when she too began to fold her wings.  In went her royals, topgallant-sails, and various kites, as it might be by some common muscular agency; and up went her courses.  Everything was done at once.  By this time she was crossing the brig’s wake, looking exceedingly beautiful, with her topsails lifting, her light sails blowing out, and even her heavy courses fluttering in the breeze.  There flew the glorious stars and stripes also; of brief existence, but full of recollections!  The moment she had room, her helm went up, her bows fell off, and down she came, on the weather quarter of the Swash, so near as to render a trumpet nearly useless.

On board the brig everybody was on deck; even the relict having forgotten her mortification in curiosity.  On board the cruiser no one was visible, with the exception of a few men in each top, and a group of gold-banded caps on the poop.  Among these officers stood the captain, a red-faced, middle-aged man, with the usual signs of his rank about him; and at his side was his lynx-eyed first lieutenant.  The surgeon and purser were also there, though they stood a little apart from the more nautical dignitaries.  The hail that followed came out of a trumpet that was thrust through the mizzen-rigging; the officer who used it taking his cue from the poop.

“What brig is that?” commenced the discourse.

“The Molly Swash, of New York, Stephen Spike, master.”

“Where from, and whither bound?”

“From New York, and bound to Key West and a market.”

A pause succeeded this answer, during which the officers on the poop of the cruiser held some discourse with him of the trumpet.  During the interval the cruiser ranged fairly up abeam.

“You are well to windward of your port, sir,” observed he of the trumpet significantly.

“I know it; but it’s war times, and I didn’t know but there might be piccaroons hovering about the Havanna.”

“The coast is clear, and our cruisers will keep it so.  I see you have a battery, sir!”

“Ay, ay; some old guns that I’ve had aboard these ten years:  they’re useful, sometimes, in these seas.”

“Very true.  I’ll range ahead of you, and as soon as you’ve room, I’ll thank you to heave-to.  I wish to send a boat on board you.”

Spike was sullen enough on receiving this order, but there was no help for it.  He was now in the jaws of the lion, and his wisest course was to submit to the penalties of his position with the best grace he could.  The necessary orders were consequently given, and the brig no sooner got room than she came by the wind and backed her topsail.  The cruiser went about, and passing to windward, backed her main-topsail just forward of the Swash’s beam.  Then the latter lowered a boat, and sent it, with a lieutenant and a midshipman in its stern-sheets, on board the brigantine.  As the cutter approached, Spike went to the gangway to receive the strangers.