A few minutes will decide it now; the Alabama's canvas has some time since been snugly furled, the fires spread and well supplied with fresh fuel, the propeller lowered, and the ship's head turned in a direction to intercept the approaching vessel.
Rapidly the chase looms larger and larger, as the two swift steamers approach each other at almost top speed.

And now the huge walking-beam can be plainly distinguished, see-sawing up and down between the lofty paddle-boxes, and the decks appear crowded with hundreds of passengers, conspicuous among whom are to be seen the gay dresses of numerous ladies; and--yes, surely that is the glimmer of bayonets, and that military-looking array drawn up on the hurricane-deck is a strong detachment of United States marines! Swiftly, and in grim silence, the Alabama approached her huge but defenceless prey.

From her open ports grinned the black muzzles of her six 32 pounders, each with its crew standing round, eager for the word.

High above them towered the huge, black pivot-gun, while from the mizzen-peak floated the delusive Stars and Stripes, the sight of which was to tempt the stranger into a confession of his own nationality.
The _ruse_ was, as usual, successful, and as the two vessels crossed, the Alabama passing a short distance astern of the stranger, the latter also hoisted United States colours, and expectation gave way to certainty among the delighted crew of the Confederate steamer.
Down came the Yankee colours from her gaff, and in its stead the white ensign of the Confederacy fluttered gaily in the breeze, while a blank shot from the Alabama's lee bow-chaser summoned the chase to surrender.

Surrendering, however, seemed to be the last thing in the chase's thoughts.