Much of the day was passed in this manner, for it was a calm, and moving either of the ships was out of the question.  In the full expectation of discovering the lugger somewhere in striking distance, Cuffe had even gone so far as to detail a party from each vessel, with a view to attack her in boats again; feeling no doubt of success, now that he had the disposable force of three vessels to send against his enemy.  Winchester was to have commanded, as a right purchased by his blood; nor was the hope of succeeding in this way abandoned, until the last boat, that which had been sent round Ischia, returned, reporting its total want of success.

“I have heard it said,” observed Cuffe, as he and his brother captains stood conversing together on the quarter-deck of the Proserpine just after this last report had been made—­“I have heard it said, that this Raoul Yvard has actually gone boldly into several of our ports, under English or neutral colors, and lain there a day or two at a time unsuspected, until it has suited him to go out again.  Can it be possible he is up, off the town?  There is such a fleet of craft in and about the mole that a little lugger, with her paint and marks altered, might be among them.  What think you, Lyon?”

“It is sartainly a law of nature, Captain Cuffe, that smaller objects should be overlooked, in the presence of greater; and such a thing might happen, therefore; though I should place it among the improbables, if not absolutely among the impossibles.  ’Twould be far safer, nevertheless, to run in, in the manner you designate, among the hundred or two of ships, than to venture alone into a haven or a roadstead.  If you wish for retirement, Sir Frederick, plunge at once into the Strand, or take lodgings on Ludgate Hill; but if you wish to be noticed and chased, go into a Highland village and just conceal your name for a bit!  Ah—­he knows the difference well who has tried both modes of life!”

“This is true, Cuffe,” observed the Baronet, “yet I hardly think a Frenchman, big or little, would be apt to come and anchor under Nelson’s nose.”

“’Twould be something like the lion’s lying down with the lamb, certainly, and ought not to be counted on as very likely.  Mr. Winchester, is not that our boat coming round the sloop’s quarter?”

“Yes, sir—­she has got back from Naples—­quartermaster——­”

“Aye, quartermaster,” interrupted Cuffe, sternly, “a pretty lookout is this!  Here is our own boat close in upon us, and not a word from your lips on the interesting subject, sir?”

This word, sir, is much used on board a man-of-war, and in all its convertible significations.  From the inferior to the superior, it comes as natural as if it were a gift from above; from equal to equal, it has a ceremonious and be-on-your-guard air that sometimes means respect, sometimes disrespect; while from a captain to a quartermaster, it always means reproof, if it do not mean menace.  In discussions of this sort, it is wisest for the weaker party to be silent; and nowhere is this truth sooner learned than on shipboard.  The quartermaster, consequently, made no answer, and the gig came alongside, bringing back the officer who had carried the proceedings of the court up to Naples.