Now was a short and bloodless fight. Taken completely by surprise, the Englishmen threw up their hands and gave in only too willingly. With smiles of satisfaction upon their faces, the seamen of the bad man from St. Malo soon hauled two kegs of spirits upon the decks, and held high revel upon the clean boarding of the rich and valuable prize. The Pagoda was re-christened The Pride of St. Malo, and soon went off privateering upon her own hook; while Lafitte headed back for St. Thomas: well-fed—even sleek with good living—and loaded down with the treasure which he had taken. “Ah-ha!” cried the black-haired navigator. “I am going to be King of the Indian waters.”
Now came the most bloody and successful of his battles upon the broad highway of the gleaming, southern ocean.
Taking command of the La Confidence of twenty-six guns and two hundred and fifty men, whom he found at the port of St. Thomas, he again headed for the coast of British India; keen in the expectation of striking a valuable prize. And his expectations were well fulfilled.
In October, 1807, the welcome cry of “Sail Ho!” sounded from the forward watch, when off the Sand Heads, and there upon the starboard bow was a spot of white, which proved to be a Queen’s East Indiaman, with a crew of near four hundred. She carried forty guns.
There were double the number of cannon, there were double the number of men, but Lafitte cried out:
“I came out to fight and I’m going to do it, comrades! You see before you a vessel which is stronger than our own, but, with courage and nerve, we can beat her. I will run our own ship close to the enemy. You must lie down behind the protecting sides of our vessel until we touch the stranger. Then—when I give the signal to board—let each man seize a cutlass, a dirk, and two pistols, and strike down all that oppose him. We must and can win!”
These stirring words were greeted by a wild and hilarious cheer.
Now, running upon the port tack, the La Confidence bore down upon the Britisher with the water boiling under her bows; while the stranger luffed, and prepared for action. Shrill cries sounded from her huge carcass as her guns were loaded and trained upon the on-coming foe, while her masts began to swarm with sharpshooters eager to pick off the ravenous sea-dogs from the Mauritius.
Suddenly a terrific roar sounded above the rattle of ropes and creak of hawsers—and a broadside cut into the La Confidence with keen accuracy.
“Lie flat upon the deck,” cried Lafitte, “and dodge the iron boys if you can see ’em.”