So he came to and surrendered; but the other fellow pounded away at the British privateer with a couple of swivel guns and put up a smart, little skirmish before a well-directed shot from the deck of the Englishman, knocked a topmast crashing over the port side. Crippled, she surrendered.
It did not take Captain Wright long to sail into Leghorn harbor with his prizes. The holds were filled with bales of rich goods, marked: “The property of the Company of English Merchants trading to the Levant Sea.”
“I’ll sell the bloomin’ cargoes,” cried Wright. “For the vessels were under the French flag and we’re at war with that nation. Besides this, one of them put up a fight against me.”
Thus—the cargoes were sold—Captain Fortunatus pocketed the money, and went upon his way, rejoicing.
But he did not rejoice very long, for the British merchants were furious with anger, and procured—through some means or other—an order from the English Government to the effect that English cargoes in French vessels were not to be touched—when captured by British privateers. Word was sent to Captain Wright to refund the money which he had secured by the sale of the cargoes captured in the French ships, and the property of “The Company of English Merchants trading to the Levant Sea.”
To this Captain Wright answered, “Bah! I have the money. I intend to keep it!”
Orders were sent from England to have this fellow arrested and shipped home; so the Italian police obligingly captured the old sea-dog, locked him up, and kept him in jail for six months, while the attorneys fought over the legality of the affair.
At length the bluff privateersman was allowed to go free, and—he never paid back the money. “These fellows attacked me at law,” he wrote, “but I have not acted contrary to it. I am an Englishman. I am acting under a commission from the King of England, and, when we are at war with France, I intend to hold and keep all the cargoes which I capture in French vessels. As for this ‘English Company trading to the Levant Sea!’ let them learn a lesson and pack their goods in future in English vessels. English oak should be good enough for English cargoes.”
The “English Company trading to the Levant Sea” had certainly learned that Fortunatus Wright was as stubborn as a mule, and—in the future—they employed no French vessels to carry their bales of commerce. A wise dog only allows himself to be bitten once.
France and England now came to a peaceable settlement of their difficulties, but in 1755 war broke out afresh. Fortunatus Wright chuckled, for he itched for another brush upon the wide sweep of the ocean, and a chance to take a prize or two. So the Fame not being available, he had a small vessel constructed at Leghorn, and called her the Saint George. She was a fast sailer and was as graceful as a sea-gull. “In this fair ship,” said he, as he gazed upon her admiringly, “I shall take many a prize and shall have, I trust, many a sharp adventure. Saint George, I salute you! May you bring me only the best of luck!”