The Britishers were lying about a quarter of a mile apart, and because the men were at the guns ready for action, I fancied we were very near a bloody engagement.
Lieutenant Downes gave a command for the boats to form in open order, and each craft shot out of line until she was heading a course of her own, the whole advancing after the fashion of the sticks of a fan.
It seemed strange to me that the enemy ceased firing at the moment we began the advance in proper fashion. We could see that on board the nearest ship they were training their guns on us, and expected each instant one of our craft would be struck, yet not a piece was discharged.
Nearer and nearer we approached, until it was possible to see distinctly every person on deck; but still the guns remained silent.
I hardly dared to breathe, nor would I look at Phil lest he should read in my eyes the fear that was in my heart.
We were come within fifty yards; every gun on the port side was trained upon us, and the officers on the quarter stood as if on the point of giving the order to open fire.
I shut my eyes, for it seemed certain that the battle could not longer be delayed, and to my mind there was little chance any of our boats would survive the first broadside.
The rousing cheers of the men startled me into opening my eyes again, and for an instant I could not understand the meaning of the shouts; but Phil soon enlightened me as he exclaimed in a tone of most intense relief:—
"They've struck their colors! They've struck their colors!"
It was indeed a fact, and our boat's crew scrambled on board, we two lads following in silent amazement, hardly conscious of what we were doing until Lieutenant Downes began calling off the names of those who would remain on board as prize crew.