"What a splendid set of youngsters!" said Jones to himself, as he watched them spring lightly toward their stations. Then he turned toward the sailing-master: "Mr. Stacey, take the deck for a few moments and hold on as we are. Ah!" he said, pausing with his foot on the ladder as he saw the Pallas, a much swifter sailer than the Richard, rushing by on the starboard side with every breath of canvas drawing, heading for the smaller of the two English ships before them, "there goes the Pallas. Cottineau, at least, is a brave man. I shall remember him. Come, Dale." As he stepped down the ladder a hearty cheer rang out from the passing frigate, which, without order, was lustily returned from the Richard, and then the two officers walked through the batteries.
The sun had set for some time, and night had long since fallen over the sea. The lighthouse on Flamborough Head was sending out a great beam of warning from that jutting point. Far on the horizon a silvery brightness had spread itself in the heavens, bespeaking the harvest moon, the burnished rim of which even before sunset had leaped into being on the edge of the water. Lights twinkled here and there on the English ships before them and crowned the hills of the distant town and harbor. Battle lanterns were lighted between decks on the Richard, the yellow flickering radiance from which was reflected from the sinewy, half-naked, sweat-covered bodies of the stalwart men at their quarters, as the captain walked through the crew.
It was a varied assemblage of about three hundred men which manned the guns and filled the tops. The crew had been made up in France out of such materials as came to hand. There were about seventy-five tried and true American seamen, most of them veterans of many a hard fight and bold adventure. These commanded the different guns and filled the more important stations. There were, perhaps, one hundred and fifty veteran French soldiers,--old artillerists,--some of whom had volunteered at the guns; a few of the most expert marksmen among them were stationed in the tops, but the greater portion was divided into two large bodies drawn up on the quarter-deck and forecastle. The balance of the crew had been gathered from the riff-raff of all nations; perhaps a tougher, rougher, harder, more desperate body of men never fought a ship; they had but one virtue,--they would fight.
Only a resolute hand and an indomitable will like that of Jones had ever held the motley crowd in any kind of discipline. He had ruled the Richard with an iron heart, and in spite of bitter murmurs had forced the men to do his will. The ship had been a slumbering volcano of incipient mutiny and latent rebellion; but in the presence of the enemy, these men whose passion it was to fight forgot their personal grievances, and mindful of the finished skill and superhuman courage of their captain, looked favorably upon him and eagerly anticipated the conflict. Rude jests and bits of sea pleasantry, usually permitted in moments like these, flew up and down the line between the captain and the ruffians under his command as he passed by them in rapid review.
The watches had been piped to supper earlier than usual, and afterward a double ration of grog had been served out. The men were in good spirits, and good spirits in them! The captain carefully examined every part of the ship. The young midshipmen who filled the unwonted stations, evidently deeply impressed by their opportunities and responsibilities, were pacing restlessly up and down, eagerly scrutinizing every detail of their several commands. On the berth-deck, standing before the hatch which led into the hold in which over two hundred English prisoners were confined, the commodore found young Payne, attended by the master-at-arms, two American seamen, and three French soldiers, keeping guard.
"Ah! I am glad to see you at your station," said the captain, raising his voice, as the young midshipman, full of pride, saluted him. "You remember my orders, sir, which were to shoot the first man who shows his head above the hatch?"
There was a hoarse murmur from the prisoners beneath the gratings which covered the hatchway, at this speech of the captain's, which was, as he had intended, clearly heard by them.
"Ay, ay, sir. I'll do it; never fear," answered the lad, in his boyish treble.
"Remember, sir, that I regard your station as one of the most important on the ship! Those men must not be allowed on deck!"
"They shall not be!" answered Payne, resolutely. "If the ship goes down, they go with it!"