the lee-rail to gaze at the suspicious stranger, which already began to
loom up vague and indistinct. In those unfrequented waters the chance
was one in a thousand that it could be anything else than a Russian
patrol. The captain was still anxiously gazing through the glasses, when
a flash of flame left the stranger's side, followed by the loud report
of a cannon. The worst fears were confirmed. It was a patrol, evidently
firing across the bows of the _Mary Thomas_ in order to make her heave
to.

"Hard down with your helm!" the captain commanded the steersman, all the
life gone out of his voice. Then to the crew, "Back over the jib and
foresail! Run down the flying jib! Clew up the foretopsail! And aft here
and swing on to the main-sheet!"

The _Mary Thomas_ ran into the eye of the wind, lost headway, and fell
to courtesying gravely to the long seas rolling up from the west.

The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat. The sealers
watched in heartbroken silence. They could see the white bulk of the
boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard.
They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the
officers. Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and
came toward them. The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too
rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner;
but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes
thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard. The
boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young
midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge.

The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second