Mrs. Ellice looked up in surprise, and her face grew pale as her eye met
the troubled gaze of her husband.

"Are you quite sure, Frederick?"

"Yes, quite. Would God that I were left alone to--but--nay, do not be
alarmed; perhaps I am wrong, it may be a--a clipper-built
trading-vessel. If not, Alice, we must make some show of fighting, and
try to frighten them. Meanwhile you must go below."

The captain spoke encouragingly as he led his wife to the cabin; but his
candid countenance spoke too truthfully, and she felt that his look of
anxious concern bade her fear the worst.

Pressing her fervently to his heart, Captain Ellice sprang on deck.

By this time the news had spread through the ship, and the crew,
consisting of upwards of thirty men, were conversing earnestly in knots
of four or five while they sharpened and buckled on cutlasses, or loaded
pistols and carbines.

"Send the men aft, Mr. Thompson," said the captain, as he paced the deck
to and fro, casting his eyes occasionally on the schooner, which was
rapidly nearing the vessel. "Take another pull at these
main-topsail-halyards, and send the steward down below for my sword and
pistols. Let the men look sharp; we've no time to lose, and hot work is
before us."

"I will go for your sword, father," cried Fred, who had just come on