“They shall not foil us a second time,” exclaimed the French captain; “no quarter if they do not yield.”
Harry and David trembled for the fate of their unfortunate countrymen on board the merchantman. Just then the English ensign was seen to descend from the peak. Those on board the English vessel thought that further resistance was hopeless. The Frenchmen swarmed up the sides, and were quickly in possession of the English ship.
“We’ll follow, and see what takes place,” said Harry; “we may perhaps help some of the poor people.”
As there was no one to interfere with them, they were soon on the merchantman’s deck. Some five or six of the crew lay dead, while three or four others, badly wounded, were being conveyed below. The French captain, by his gestures, seemed disappointed at not having his expected revenge, and he was abusing the English captain for having attempted to oppose him. A man stood by, receiving the swords of the captain and several other persons, who seemed to be gentlemen. Harry and David observed one whose face had been turned away from them at first.
“Harry,” exclaimed David, “I’m sure that’s Captain Rymer. If Mary is on board, how dreadful for her!”
“It’s very like him,” said Harry; “I’m afraid it must be him. But how could he have come on board the ship? We shall soon know, at all events—I will try and speak to him.”
As may be supposed, even their dearest friends would not have known the two lads in their tarry clothes, and their faces begrimed with powder. As soon as the French captain and his followers went below to examine the cargo of the ship, Harry and David stole up to the gentleman whom they supposed to be Captain Rymer. He was indeed their friend.
“What, lads!” he exclaimed, looking at them, “are you really alive? I am thankful to find you so, even in this plight.”
Harry rapidly explained how they came to be on board the French vessel.
“And is Mary with you?” asked Harry, eagerly.