The sun was high in the sky when the first of the little boats, rounding a sharp promontory, came in sight of a large vessel. She was plainly a ship of war, anchored a mile off the coast in a little bay. Beyond the lads could make out the houses of what appeared to be a small town.
"Wonder what place that is?" said Frank.
"I don't know," replied Jack, "but we'll soon find out. See!
Our presence has been discovered."
Frank looked in the direction Jack pointed. It was true. They were close enough to the vessel now for the lads to make out several figures standing upon the deck, pointing toward them and gesticulating.
A moment later and the guns on the vessel shone in the sunlight, as the ship came about. They were pointed squarely at the little British flotilla.
A flag was quickly, run up to the masthead. The boys made it out in an instant—the tricolor of France. A cheer went up from the British sailors, and in one of the boats a sailor sprang to his feet and waved a British ensign above his head.
This was seen from the deck of the French vessel, and several small boats were hurriedly manned and came toward the British. Within hailing distance a voice cried out in French:
"Who are you and where from?"
"British prize crew aboard German merchantman, which was sunk by a German cruiser yesterday," Jack shouted back.
The French boats approached closer. The men in them were all armed, and it was plainly apparent they were not too confident of the identity of the British. They held their rifles ready for instant use, and small rapid-firers in the prow of each craft were ready for business.