We agreed, however, that Nettleship, as we thought, would knock under. What might have been the case I don’t know; but as soon as the men had somewhat recovered from their hardships,—there being no man-o’-war likely to call off the place,—the captain chartered two merchant brigs to convey himself and the survivors of the Hector to Halifax, Nova Scotia, whence he expected to get a passage home for us to England. Nettleship, Tom, and I, accompanied by Larry, had to go on board the Jane, one of the vessels, of which Captain Drury went in charge; while Captain Bouchier, though still not recovered from his wound, went in the other, the John Thomas.
I did not mention it at the time, but Larry had managed to save his riddle uninjured when he left the Hector, and his appearance with it under his arm afforded no small amount of satisfaction to the crew of the Jane.
The John Thomas proved a much faster sailer than the brig, and soon ran ahead of us. We had just lost sight of Cape Race when a sail was made out, standing towards us from the southward.
“I don’t like her looks,” observed Nettleship to me, as she approached. “I shouldn’t be surprised if she proves to be a French privateer.”
The captain appeared to be of this opinion, for, after: examining the stranger through his glass, he ordered all the sail we could carry to be set, and stood away right before the wind, to the north-west. The stranger, however, came up with us hand over hand. In a short time the French ensign was seen blowing out at her peak, leaving no doubt as to her character.
“We must not be taken, lads. I trust to you to fight to the last, before we strike our flag,” cried the captain.
The crew cheered, and promised to do their best.
The Jane had six nine-pounders, while the enemy carried twice as many guns, evidently of much heavier metal. As a few men only were required to work them, the captain ordered the rest to go under shelter. Tom and I were among those ordered below. In a short time we heard our guns go off, and the shot of the enemy came rattling on board. Presently there came a crash, and we guessed that the privateer had run us alongside.
“On deck, lads!” cried the captain. “Boarders, repel boarders.”
At the summons we eagerly rushed up through every hatchway, to see a number of Frenchmen swarming on board; but they didn’t get far beyond the bulwarks before they were driven back, we in return boarding them. Tom and I led our men into the fore part of the vessel. More and more of our fellows followed. The Frenchmen gave way, some leaped below, others ran aft, where they encountered Nettleship and his party; in less than five minutes the privateer was ours, and Larry, shouting—