"Hurrah! we have her now," exclaimed the skipper, delightedly rubbing his hands.  "Up with your helm, quartermaster, and follow her.  Weather braces, Mr Galway; square the yards, and set your topgallantsails again.  The land cannot be far off, and now she must strike or we will drive her ashore.  Jump down on to the main-deck, Mr Delamere, and request Mr Howard to train his starboard guns as far forward as they will go, and then to rake her every time we luff."  (The change in the relative positions of the two vessels caused by both of us squaring away dead before the wind was that the French ship was now almost stern-on to us, broad on our starboard-bow, and about half a mile distant.)