“Bring up a couple of casks from below!” cried Captain Walker. They were soon on deck.
“Now put a lantern in one and lash them together,” he continued. “We’ll alter our course and skip, while the Frenchies will follow this light.”
The ruse worked magnificently, and, when morning dawned and the bright sun burned off the fog, the French men-of-war found themselves hovering around a couple of old casks with a lantern tied to the top; while Captain Walker in the King George was scudding along the French coast, many miles away. At which the French captain remarked,
“Sapristi! L’oiseau s’est envolé.” (Egad! The bird has flown!)
Not long after this “The Royal Family of Privateers” took some valuable prizes, and, having chased a small, French merchantman into the bay of Safia, in Morocco, Captain Walker determined to capture her at night, by sending a party against her in the long-boats. A second lieutenant was put in charge of this venture, and, at dark three tenders, crowded with armed seamen and propelled by muffled oars, started after the prize. As they neared the merchantman a hail came through the blackness:
“Qui est la?” (Who is there?)
No answer was made to this, but the boats kept straight on.
Crash! Bang!
A gun roared in the faces of the privateers, and shots came falling around them like hail-stones,—but still they kept on.
Again Crash! Crash! Crash!