Ah! The stranger's deck swarms black with men.

His sham ports fell as if by magic, his guns grinned through the gaps
like black teeth; his huge foresail rose and filled, and out he came in
chase.


The breeze was a kiss from Heaven, the sky a vaulted sapphire, the sea a
million dimples of liquid, lucid, gold. . . .


The way the pirate dropped the mask, showed his black teeth, and bore up
in chase, was terrible: so dilates and bounds the sudden tiger on his
unwary prey. There were stout hearts among the officers of the peaceful
_Agra_; but danger in a new form shakes the brave; and this was their
first pirate: their dismay broke out in ejaculations not loud but
deep. . . .

"Sharpe," said Dodd, in a tone that conveyed no suspicion of the
newcomer, "set the royals, and flying jib.--Port!"

"Port it is," cried the man at the helm.

"Steer due South!" And, with these words in his mouth, Dodd dived to the
gun deck.

By this time elastic Sharpe had recovered the first shock; and the order
to crowd sail on the ship galled his pride and his manhood; he muttered,
indignantly, "The white feather!" This eased his mind, and he obeyed