Suddenly, the gaff of the cutter's mainsail was seen to droop, and the
boom was hauled on board.
"I thought it would be too much for them," the skipper said exultantly.
"They are going to reef."
"We had better reef down too, I think," the mate said. "She has had as
much as she could bear for some time."
"I'll hold on ten minutes longer," the skipper said. "Every half mile
counts."
But before that time was up, the sails were one after another reefed,
for the wind continued to freshen. The sky was still cloudless, but
there was a misty light in the air, and a heavy sea was beginning to
run.
Suddenly, a gun flashed out from the cutter. The skipper uttered an
oath. Their pursuer was more than three miles astern, and he knew that
she could only be firing as a signal.
There were several large ships in sight on their way up or down the
Channel. To these, little attention had been paid. The skipper shaded
his eyes with a hand, and gazed earnestly at a large ship on the
weather beam, some four miles away.
"That is a frigate, sure enough," he exclaimed. "We are fairly caught
between them.
"Haul in the sheets, lads, we will have a try for it yet."
The lugger was brought sharp up into the wind, and was soon staggering
along seaward, with the lee bulwark almost under water.
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