All this was done in plain view of Raoul, whose glass was constantly at his eye, and who studied the smallest movement with jealous distrust.

Winchester, fortunately for his purpose, was a dark-complexioned man of moderate stature and with bushy whiskers, such as a man-of-war's-man is apt to cultivate on a long cruise; and, in his red Phrygian cap, striped shirt, and white cotton trousers, he looked the Italian as well as could have been desired.

The men in sight, too, had been selected for their appearance, several of them being actually foreigners, born on the shores of the Mediterranean; it being seldom indeed that the crew of an English or an American vessel of war does not afford a representation of half the maritime nations of the earth.

These men exhibited a proper degree of confusion and alarm, too, running to and fro as soon as the chase became lively; exerting themselves, but doing it without order and concert.

At length, the wind failing almost entirely, they got out two sweeps and began to pull lustily; the real as well as the apparent desire being to get as near as possible to the lugger.
"_Peste!_" exclaimed Raoul; "all this seems right--what if the frigate should be French after all?
These men in the boats look like my brave compatriotes!" "They are regular John Bulls," answered Ithuel, positively, "and the ship is the spiteful Proserpyne," for so the New Hampshire man always called his old prison.