“Sail ahead on the starboard bow!”
Lieutenant Thornton, who was pacing the deck chatting to the young midshipman, went forward, and looking over the starboard bulwarks, perceived two vessels standing towards them; they were about a league off. One was a schooner, the other a large chasse-mare.
They were making for Havre, and must have seen the Vengeance; but, as our hero imagined, mistook her for a French vessel, for no British cruisers or privateers were lugger rigged. The chasse-mare was nearly as large in tonnage as the Vengeance, though not near so long. In ten minutes, as they were then steering, they would be alongside each other.
“I’m blessed if that schooner ain’t an English one,” said Bill Saunders to a messmate, as they stood regarding the two vessels.
Lieutenant Thornton thought so too, and he also thought the chasse-mare was a privateer. It was a clear, fine night, with a light wind at east and by south. To let the two vessels run into Havre would betray the Vengeance being on the coast, so he made up his mind to run the chasse-mare on board and take her, if possible, by surprise. When the crew of the Vengeance were apprised of his intention, they joyfully ran to arm and prepare for the struggle, not bestowing a thought upon the disparity of force in men. As the chasse-mare came on, followed at half a mile distance by the schooner, they could see at all events that there were double their own number on board.
Lieutenant Thornton prepared to hail, desiring young Burdett to stand by the man at the helm, adding, “When I give the signal, run her on board.” Standing in the bows of the Vengeance, our hero with a speaking trumpet hailed the Frenchman, who as well as the lugger had no colours flying. Demanding the name of the vessel, a man in the bows replied—
“The Belle Poule, of Havre, Captain François Bouvet, with a prize. Are you the Vengeance, Captain Pierre Gaudet?”
Lieutenant Thornton waved his hat. The next moment the helm was put down, and the lugger, shooting up rapidly in the wind’s eye, came right across the quarter of the Belle Poule, and dropped alongside. A cheer that utterly astounded the French crew pealed over the deep, and as the two vessels became locked together by grappling irons thrown from the Vengeance into the Belle Poule, Lieutenant Thornton, followed by his entire crew, leaped on board the enemy, cutlass and pistol in hand. Taken completely by surprise, and quite unprepared, the crew of the Belle Poule, after a few ill-aimed shots at the boarders, threw down their arms and ran below, excepting the captain and two of his officers; the former was disarmed, though in a furious passion, by Lieutenant Thornton. The lieutenant and first mate, seeing the captain disarmed, threw down their cutlasses and surrendered. Bill Saunders’ first object was to fasten the French crew down below, for they amounted in number to forty-eight, without reckoning the captain, lieutenant, and mate. A violent scuffle below, however, attracted Bill’s attention, and some words reaching his ear, he called Master Burdett, and then by inquiry discovered that there were fourteen English prisoners below. Lieutenant Thornton immediately ordered the men up, and as the French crew of the Belle Poule had no idea of the small number of their assailants, they obeyed the order, and, one by one, up came fourteen stout, able-bodied seamen, giving three hearty cheers as they gained the deck.
“The schooner has tacked, sir, and is standing off to sea,” said Bill Saunders.
“Stand by, then, to separate the vessels,” returned Lieutenant Thornton. “Now, my lads,” he continued, turning to the released prisoners, “you must assist; we are, as you see, short-handed.”