I pointed the glass at her, and made out a yellow chimney and pole-masts--hull still below the horizon.
"'Either a yacht, sir, or a Government dispatch boat--something of that kind, sir,' says I to Mr.Robinson, who was sitting near me with the lady.
"He jumped up and took a look, and whilst he was working away with the telescope, the breeze comes along right out of the red sky abeam where the steamer was, with twice its former strength, roughening the blue water into hollows, and bowing down the yacht till the slope of her deck was like a roof.

The crew jumped about shortening canvas, and the yacht began to snore as she felt the wind.

On a sudden, and as if the steamer had only just then spied us, she altered her course by three or four points, as one could see by the swift rising of her hull, till, whilst the sun was still hanging a middling height over the sea line, you could see the whole of the vessel--a long, low craft of about one hundred and fifty tons--sweeping through the seas like an arrow, the smoke streaming black and fat from her small, yellow funnel, and her hull sinking out of sight one moment and reappearing the next in a sort of jump of the whole foaming wash, as if, by Jove, her screw would thrust her clean out of the water.
"The lady looked at her with a sort of indifference; but Mr.Robinson was pale enough as he handed me the glass, and said, 'Williams, see if you know her.' "I took a look at her, and answered, 'It's hard to tell those steamers till you see their names, sir; but if she's not the Violet, belonging to General Coldsteel (of course these are false names), she's uncommonly like her.

But, law bless us! how they're driving her! Why, there'll be a bust up if they don't look out.

They'll blow the boilers out of her!'" 'Indeed, I never before saw any vessel rush so.