“On a hill, not far off, two men were kept always on the outlook.
“On the morning of the third day the signalmen left their posts and hurried towards the ship.
“Three large piratical dhows, carrying the blood-red flag of the Arab nation, were bearing down towards the island. They turned out to be the very same we’d seen two nights before, in company with another and much larger one.
“We determined not to frighten them off by coming out too soon. We didn’t know then that these fellows rather courted fight than otherwise.
“All sails were loosened and at last we got clear, took up the boats that had been heading us, lifted sails, and stood out to meet them.
“Every man was at his post. The marines lying down on deck under arms, the bluejackets, stripped to the trousers, standing by the guns on both decks. There was a glorious breeze blowing. Oh! Nie, lad, it was just the morning for a fight. My old blood dances in my veins yet at the very thoughts of it.
“I must say that those Arabs managed their little craft beautifully. The largest one was the first to advance, and the first to receive and return our fire. She had even the daring and pluck to fire at us.”
“Did she succeed?”
“She did, alas! and she poured a broadside into us that made our upper deck like shambles. Meanwhile the other two dhows were at us, on us almost, for we were sometimes fighting gun to gun, and we had to fight on both sides of our vessel at once.
“The commander of the Niobe wanted all his wits about him, for it was a trying time.