“Faith, then, captain,” said he to the smiling commander of the sloop-of-war, “I think it’s a shame, so I do, that an honest man can’t cast his nests into the say for the bits of fish that do be swimming about, widout being dragged on board a Yankee that he don’t want to get acquainted wid.”
“Well,” replied Captain Jones, “we are not quite so discourteous. We desired your acquaintance and went to some little trouble to make it.”
“Sure, then,” snapped the other, “if I carried the guns aboard of me that the Drake do, as she lies there in Belfast Lough, you would not be so ready to come near me, perhaps.”
“The Drake?” questioned Captain Jones, with interest. “You mean, I suppose, the British ship-of-war of that name?”
“I do,” returned the fisherman. “And she is a fine vessel, for she carries twenty guns and a hundred and fifty men.”
The commander of the Ranger turned to his first officer, briskly.
“I think, Mr. Simpson,” said he, “that we’ll change our course for Belfast Lough and see what can be done with that vessel.”
“We are not out to engage warships,” growled Simpson, sullenly.
“We are out to engage anything that promises to injure the enemy,” said the captain sharply. “You will please pass my order along.”
The lieutenant did as requested. It is noted of this insubordinate officer that he seemed to regard the voyage of the Ranger more as an enterprise for private gain than anything else; a rich merchantman pleased him greatly; but he had little or no stomach for a fight with a vessel that carried any weight of metal.