If the _Arrow_ was a hare, the Frenchman was a greyhound.
However, there was no time to speculate on questions of speed.

The question was, should we show fight, or lie-to and explain ourselves?
There was no hope of a ship like ours, so slenderly manned, being able to capture or even disable our heavily-armed pursuer.

On the other hand, to surrender meant losing all our booty, and possibly our ship into the bargain; for the French, when it suited their purpose, were ready enough to take advantage of a chance of pressing a smart craft like the _Arrow_ into their own service, especially as she bore an English name, and was known to have preyed pretty impartially on friend and foe alike.
An eager consultation took place on deck, some urging one course, some another, while some proposed to throw the cargo overboard, and one or two to scuttle the ship.
However, as good luck would have it, there was a fifth way out of the difficulty which we had little dreamed of.
"A sail on the weather-quarter!" suddenly shouted our watch.
The captain and mate went aloft to view her, and presently reported an English frigate in full sail bearing down in our direction.

She seemed to be coming fast, across the wind, and by the look of her was a regular line-of-battle ship, with a double row of guns snarling from her ports.
"That settles us," said Captain Cochin, rapidly recovering his spirits.
"While the lion and the tiger fight, Mister Fox slips off with the booty.

Way there; keep her as she goes, master; and good-day to you, monsieur." He spoke the truth.