"And God save the king, sir," replied the veteran, lifting his hat, and then vigorously whetting his blade.
The course which had suggested itself to Jack was one that he would scarcely have imagined in cold blood; but in the present crisis it seemed to him preferable to either of the two he had before mentioned. He had seventy men on board, thirty more than the cutter would have carried in the ordinary way. Most of them were well armed; and, well as British seamen always fought, they could be trusted in the present circumstances to outdo themselves, for defeat meant utter destruction. Could he lull the Frenchmen's suspicions for a few minutes? If he could!—well, the chance of success was small, but the smallest was better than none at all.
"Yes, by George! I'll do it!" he said to himself.
And he lost no time. He was astonished at the quickness with which his mind worked in forming his plan. Orders came to his lips in short, sharp sentences, and, thanks to the readiness of old Babbage and the fine discipline of the seamen, they were carried out as promptly as given.
A score of men went below, and in a few seconds returned to the deck, looking like Frenchmen. They had stripped the outer garments from the prisoners. Their weapons were completely concealed. Five men with loaded muskets stood guard over the real Frenchmen, four held themselves ready to board, with boat anchors as grapnels. The rest of the men, equipped with all the available armament, concealed themselves below, out of sight from the approaching vessel, but ready for action at a moment's notice.
These preparations were still being made when the French flag was run up on the brig. In response Jack hoisted the French colors found on board, and, bringing the cutter a point or two closer into the wind, made as if to hail the larger vessel. When only half a cable's length separated them he shouted:
"Ho! Hola!"
There was an answering shout from the brig. So far, at any rate, no suspicion had been aroused. Jack felt himself thrill with excitement and suspense; everything depended on the result of the next move. Turley was at the helm, his lips set, his eyes never leaving the midshipman's face. Two or three seconds after the hail Jack gave the word; Turley put the helm hard up, and the cutter, paying off from the wind, ran alongside the brig to the manifest amazement of the Frenchmen, the captain swearing with anger at what he supposed was rashness or utter stupidity on the part of the cutter's commander.
Barely two yards now separated the vessels, the side of the brig seeming to tower over the cutter. At a sign from Jack the men with the grapnels leaped up, and cast them in at the open ports of the brig. The ropes attached to them were instantly secured to stanchions on the cutter's deck, and with a slight movement of the tiller Turley brought the two hulls together.
Even before they touched, twenty men from the Fury's deck were clambering up the main chains of the brig, and forty more were swarming from below in support. By this time the French captain had realized that the commander of the cutter was neither stupid nor rash, but a dare-devil of an Englishman. Those were Englishmen's cries that he heard, mingling with the uproar made by his own men. Everything was in confusion. Only the marines were armed. What French captain would have dreamed of meeting a little English cutter so near his own coast? What audacity, what unjustifiable impertinence, for so small a vessel to engage a thirty-two gun brig, with a complement of probably two hundred men! It was ridiculous, thought the captain, even as he gathered his men for the fight.