the master of the other dhow, and that the latter would come to an anchor at least as often as he did.
We rolled about a good deal that night, and before dawn on November 15 the skipper roused his sleeping crew, who promptly went to their work in their fluttering white robes, singing their chanties as usual while they got up anchor and sail. The wind was now moderating, and soon it fell light, and the rain began to fall. We travelled slowly over an oily swell, our sail flapping with every roll. Now and again, however, a short but violent squall swept down upon us and drove the dhow hissing through the water for a while. At about nine o'clock in the morning we sighted two craft ahead of us. We soon distinguished them as being two-masted dhows, one coming our way and the other apparently sailing the same course as ourselves. 'That one,' said the skipper, 'is the felucca with the Englishman on board. We are now certain to be in port before her. The El Hamdi can sail; the other cannot.'
The crew now spared no effort to overtake the chase; as there were no longer squalls of dangerous violence, they, for the first time, cracked on all the canvas they could. From a sack they produced a sail I had not yet seen, which proved to be a large foresail of light canvas, intended for use only in moderate breezes, and possibly in case of pursuit when the vessel was engaged in contraband trade. The head of the foresail, under which we had been sailing so far, was ten feet shorter than the yard on
