The men were all highly delighted with our proposal. They must have anticipated some such chance when they smuggled the arms into the boat. Ned Dawlish took another look at the chase. “She’s a French craft, and a privateer, I’ll bet any money,” he exclaimed, sitting down again to his oar.
The crew now gave way with a will. The sooner we were up to her the better, because, of course, we knew that we must by this time be seen, and our intentions suspected.
“She carries three or, maybe, four guns on a side,” observed Ned, looking over his shoulder. “But that’s no odds, they can’t reach us.”
His eagerness and courage animated the rest of the crew. How many men the chase carried we could not tell; indeed, we did not consider. Not one of us entertained a doubt that we should take her. Our proposed plan of proceeding was very simple. We were to pull up alongside, jump on board, and, cutlass in hand, drive the enemy down the hatches, or into the sea if they would not yield.
There was still some light left, and, as we drew near, it appeared to me that the decks were somewhat crowded. I asked Grey what he thought. He agreed with me. Still it was too late to retreat. We had not got much farther when bright flashes of flame burst from the stern, and, what we little expected, a shower of bullets rattled about us.
“Give way, lads, give way!” shouted Ned Dawlish. “We’ll lick the Johnny Crapeaus in spite of that.”
The boat dashed on. We hoped to get alongside before another volley was fired. In vain. Again a leaden shower rattled round our heads. Once more Ned Dawlish shouted loudly. There was a deep groan, and he fell, with his face bent down, to the bottom of the boat. Grey seized his oar, and took his place. He had been shot in the back. Speed was everything to us now. There must be a considerable number of small-arm men on board, I saw; but even then it never occurred to me that we ought to turn tail.
On we went. Still the enemy kept up a fire at us. Toby Bluff gave a sharp cry. A bullet had hit him, but he answered me when I spoke, and kept his seat. We had the muskets ready. I let go the tiller and seized one. Grey and Billy Wise and two other men did the same, and let fly among the enemy.
In another instant we were under the schooner’s quarter. The bowman hooked on. Without asking leave, up we scrambled, and, cutlass in hand, in spite of boarding-pikes thrust at us, and pistols flashed in our faces, began to play heartily about us among the very much astonished Frenchmen.