“You lie,” cried Captain Walker. “No glass was used by my men.”
The Frenchman curbed his anger.
“Then what was it?” said he.
Here a British seaman interrupted.
“If it would please your French Majesty,” he said, with a bow, “I reckon I know what it was that you took for glass. The captain of one of our stern guns, when he found out that we must surrender, sir, took about sixteen shillings from his pocket, saying: ‘Sooner than let these French rascals plunder me of all I’ve got in the world, I’ll see what a bribe can do!’ So he wrapped the money up in a bag, sir, crammed it into a gun, and let fly at your deck. Faith, your men were lucky to be struck by good, British coin!”
At this all had a good laugh, and the unpleasantness between the French captain and George Walker was at an end. The privateersman was treated with the greatest courtesy and was made as comfortable as could be.
The action took place on Friday and the ships were headed for Brest, about three days’ sail away. At daybreak on Sunday morning, four large boats were sighted astern, and it did not take long to realize that they were coming up pretty fast and were flying the English colors.
“Hurray!” shouted Captain Walker. “No French prison for me. Hurray!”
The English squadron gained steadily. The boats grew nearer and nearer, while Walker’s hopes soared higher and higher. Finally, the French officer, who was in charge of his own boat—the Mars—put his helm up and ran to leeward, hoping to draw one of the British vessels after him. He was successful, for a seventy-gun ship made after him, chased him for several miles, and finally re-captured the English privateer. The other ships kept on and drew closer and closer.
Seeing that an action would soon take place, the French captain politely requested Walker and his officers to go below.