noon
The scavengers were sweeping down , and part of the after guard was bending a new bolt-rope on a storm staysail . Then the -- fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter , the Richard is brought around on the wind , and away we go after a brigantine , `` flying like a snow laden with English bricks , '' as Midshipman Coram jokingly remarks . A chase is not such a novelty with us that we crane our necks to windward . At noon , when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck , the sun had eaten up the fog , and the shores of England stood out boldly . Spurn Head was looming up across our bows , while that of Flamborough jutted into the sea behind us . I had the starboard watch piped to dinner , and reported twelve o'clock to the commodore . And had just got permission to `` make it , '' according to a time-honoured custom at sea , when another `` Sail , ho ! ''