"I won't trust her.

Up with the royals and rig out stun'-sails, Mr.Wilson, (to the mate).

Let her fall away, keep her head nor'-west, d'ye hear ?" "Ay, ay, sir." "Let go the lee braces and square the yards.

Look sharp, now, lads.

If that blackguard gets hold of us ye'll have to walk the plank, every man of ye." In a few minutes the ship's course was completely altered; a cloud of canvas spread out from the yards, and the _Firefly_ bounded on her course like a fresh race-horse.