And, as we drew nearer, it was evident, from the talk among John Ozanne and his mates, that they could see more through their glasses than we could with our eyes.
"Guyabble!" cried old Martin at last.

"There's another ship hitched on to her far side.

I can see her masts.

Now, what's this?
A privateer as like as no, and we'll have our bite yet, maybe." And before long we could all make out the thin masts of a smaller vessel between the flapping canvas of the larger.

John Ozanne ordered us to quarters, and got ready for a fight.