A minute later I was on deck, still in my sleeping rig, and looking about me.  The weather was pretty much as I had judged it to be from the glimpse that I had caught through my state-room port.  As San Domingo had said, the _Dona Inez_ was about a mile and a half so dead astern of us that her two masts were in one, while, in the precise position which the negro had indicated, there lay a fine, spanking brigantine thrashing along under a perfect cloud of canvas to her royal, which, by the way, appeared to have as much hoist, and nearly as much canvas on it, as our topsail.