"Run for that steamer, Mr. Fillbrook," said he, after his first glance.
"Make the course east by north, Mr. Bangs," added the first lieutenant.
"East by north," repeated the quartermaster at the wheel when the order
reached him.
"I have just been aloft, and she flies the Confederate flag, Captain
Passford," said Mr. Fillbrook. "She is a large steamer, and she is by no
means as jaunty as the Vixen."
Both steamers were going at full speed, and it required but a short time
to bring them near enough together for something to happen. She was well
down in the water, and appeared as though she might be loaded with
something besides the appliances of a man-of-war. She looked as though
she might be twice as large as the Vixen, and it was soon evident that
her speed was nothing to boast of. She certainly was not one of the
high-flyer yachts which had been bought up for service in the
Confederate navy.
When the two vessels were not more than a mile apart, a column of smoke
rose from her waist, as she swung around so that her great gun could be
brought to bear, and a shot dropped into the water at least an eighth of
a mile short of the Vixen.
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