Again roared out a volley. Oars were splintered. One boat was pierced below the water line. She sank, and her men floundered about upon the surface of the oily sea.
“Bear off, and rescue our comrades!” cried the leaders of this futile attack, and, as the French barque drifted away, the remaining boats busied themselves with the swimming sailors. The assault had been a complete failure.
“Curses upon the Frenchman!” cried Captain Rogers when he saw the saucy fighter drawing off. “We’ll go after her to-morrow, and catch her, or my blood’s not English. What say you, men?”
“Yes. After her and board her amid-ships!” cried all. “Run our own vessel alongside.”
“And that I will do,” answered Rogers, watching the lumbering merchantman through his glass. “She’s entirely too well armed for a trader.”
When morning dawned, the Frenchman was still ploughing along the coast in the light breeze, with all sail set. But there was not wind enough to force her ahead of her pursuer. The Duchess now returned from her chase of the Lima boat, and, joining her Duke, bore in upon the able fighter from the open sea.
“Egad! We’ll have her yet,” shouted Captain Rogers, rubbing his hands.
“She luffs!” cried a lieutenant. “She’s coming to!”
Sure enough the Frenchman saw that resistance now was useless. She staggered into the wind, and a white flag beckoned for a prize-crew to come and take her.
“And,” writes Captain Rogers, “I found that a Bishop who had been aboard of her, had been put ashore, which gave me much grief. For I always love to catch fat prelates, as they give up a stout sum as their ransom. In truth they are nice pickings.”