We had turned south towards the Bay, and were beginning to doubt our luck, when, on the fourth day, a stiff westerly gale forced us to bare poles.

During the night it waxed stronger still, and the little _Swallow_ proved herself well.

Next morning a long line of great ships went gallantly past us over the roaring seas, shepherded by two stately frigates,--an East Indian convoy homeward bound.
Late that day, the fifth of our cruising, we raised the topmasts of a large ship and made for her hopefully.
"A merchantman," said Martin Cohu disgustedly, "and English or I'm a Dutchman.

One of the convoy lagged behind.

No pickings for us this time, my lads." But there was more there than he expected.
There was always the chance of her having been captured by the French, in which case her recapture would bring some little grist to our mill, and so we crowded sail for her.