Caught in a gale of wind, the vessel was blown down Channel, and afterwards chasing some vessels—she could never catch them—into the Shannon, Du Guay Trouin landed his men in the night, burnt a couple of vessels on the beach, did a little pillaging, and alarmed the whole district. Messages were sent hot-foot to Limerick for the soldiers—it was a French fleet, an invasion in force! Du Guay Trouin embarked his men just as the soldiers came in sight, up anchor, and got away cleverly. This was the only fun he had in the Danycan, for every vessel she encountered could "wrong" her, as they used to say in those days; that is to say, could sail round her; so there was not much honour and glory to be got out of her.
On his return to St. Malo Du Guay Trouin was given a better craft—the Coëtquen, of 18 guns. It is said that he held his commission from James II., the ex-king of England—it is certain that James did issue such commissions after his abdication, and indeed his consort, the Saint Aaron, commanded by one Welch, of Irish extraction, was thus commissioned.
Du Guay Trouin soon had some exciting adventures. Falling in with a fleet of English merchant vessels, under convoy of a couple of sloops, the two privateers captured five ships and the two men-of-war; but, as they were taking their prizes into St. Malo, an English squadron gave chase; then they had to get in where they could. Welch got safely into St. Malo with some of the vessels; Du Guay Trouin, being cornered, made a dash for the Isle of Brehat, behind which the navigation is of the most intricate and perilous description, with dozens of half-submerged rocks and a swishing tide. He managed to get in, and some of the English vessels which tried to follow him very nearly came to grief. He had been under fire for some time, and unluckily his pilot was killed, and also some others who were familiar with the locality; so he contrived to find his way out without them, thus displaying that sort of intuitive skill in navigation and the handling of a ship which has almost always distinguished great seamen. He was not an accomplished navigator, having neglected his studies; he was accustomed to trust entirely to "dead reckoning." Certainly, the means of observing the altitude, etc., of the sun and stars were very rude in those days; but Du Guay Trouin was not expert even with these.
However, he got out of this trap, was presently blown into the Bristol Channel, and found an English 60-gun ship arriving about the same time. "Luckily," says one of his biographers, "there is an island in the middle of this estuary; while the enemy came in on one side of it Du Guay Trouin went out on the other." This, of course, is Lundy Island; and, getting a good start, Du Guay Trouin escaped cleverly—going out, so to speak, by the back door as his opponent came in by the front.
After this Du Guay Trouin had a bad time in the Profond, a very poor sailer, and altogether an unlucky ship, so that he was glad to see the last of her, and take command of the Hercule, of 28 guns.
After a little good fortune, he again fell upon evil days. No prey was sighted for two months, provisions began to run short, sickness broke out among the crew, discontent and insubordination soon followed. The officers and men demanded that he should return to France, but, partly by conciliation and partly by firmness, he persuaded them to keep the sea for eight days longer, promising them that, if they did capture a prize, they should pillage her and divide the spoil. On the last night at sea, Du Guay Trouin tells us, he had a vivid dream that two deeply laden ships hove in sight; at daybreak he went aloft—and there they were! He took them both; they were rich prizes, and the crew were made happy by being allowed, as he had promised, to pillage one of them.
His next ship was the Diligente, of 40 guns; and in her he was destined to experience the misfortune of defeat and capture. First, however, he came across the Prince of Orange, a hired armed vessel of considerable force—Du Guay Trouin says of 60 guns—convoying a fleet of thirty vessels. Having hailed one of them, and ascertained that they were laden with coal, he determined not to risk loss and damage for such a comparatively worthless cargo. Finding however, that his vessel easily "had the heels" of the other, he indulged in some aggravating antics, taking in sail so as to allow the English to come within gunshot, shooting ahead again, under English colours, which he hoisted "union down," i.e. as a signal "Am in need of assistance"; then, dropping down once more, he so far forgot himself as to fire at the other while still under English colours—a gross breach of international law, accounted as an act of piracy. It was done, no doubt, through inadvertence, but the English captain did not forget it, and the Frenchman had cause to regret his carelessness.
And then came misfortune; nine days later he fell in with a squadron of six English men-of-war cruising between Ireland and the Scilly Isles. They immediately gave chase. A hard gale blowing, Du Guay Trouin ran for the Scilly Isles, hard pressed by the Adventure and Dragon. In among the islands they ran, and by eleven o'clock the Adventure was near enough to engage, the Diligente replying with her stern guns. Still gaining in the heavy breeze, the Adventure—a 44-gun ship—was within easy range, the Dragon—46 guns—not far astern. Du Guay Trouin engaged the Adventure for nearly three hours, hoping all the time to escape; however, at half-past two his fore and main topmasts were shot away, and the English vessel ranged up alongside, hauling up her courses, the Dragon at the same time signalising her arrival by a broadside.
This was a pretty desperate state of affairs, but the gallant Frenchman would not yet acknowledge himself beaten. Seeing the English vessel so near, he conceived the idea of suddenly boarding her, and carrying her off. He sent his officers to call the crew on deck, got the grapnels ready, and ordered the helm to be put over. The two ships were rapidly closing when one of the lieutenants of the Diligente, looking through a port, and not imagining for a moment that his captain really contemplated such a desperate measure, ordered the quartermaster to reverse the helm. The ships fell apart, but Du Guay Trouin shouted to jam the helm over again. It was too late; the English captain, knowing that he and his consorts had the Frenchman secure, did not see the use of having a hundred and fifty desperate men jumping on board, so he set his courses, sheered off, and banged away again with his guns. The Monk, of 60 guns, now arrived, and the Diligente was fairly surrounded, two more ships coming up shortly.
Still the French flag was kept flying. The men, less heroic than their captain, began to run from their quarters. Du Guay Trouin cut down one, pistolled another, and was hustling them generally, when fire broke out below. He rushed down and had it extinguished, then provided himself with a tub of grenades, which he began throwing down into the hold, so that his crew found it too hot to remain below, and manned some of the guns. However, this could not go on against such fearful odds, and on gaining the deck once more he found that "some cowardly rascal" had lowered the colours. He ordered them up again, but his officers demurred; and then, with the last shot fired in the action, he was wounded severely in the groin and dropped senseless. When he came to himself the ship was in the possession of the English. He was taken on board the Monk, where Captain Warren treated him right well—"with as much care as though I had been his own son," says Du Guay Trouin—and he was probably quite old enough to have been father to the young French captain, who was then only one-and-twenty.