“It’s all up with us if she sees us now,” cried O’Grady. “But I vote we die game any how, and not give in while there’s one of us alive to steer the craft.”
The increasing daylight soon revealed them to the Frenchman, who at once began blazing away in a manner which showed that the long chase they had given him had made him not a little angry. The shot, however, fell short; but he on this made more sail, and soon gained on them. He ceased firing for half an hour or more, and then again began, the shot flying by on either side, or over the mast-head. They came, indeed, much too near to be pleasant. Reuben took the helm, and the two midshipmen stood facing their enemy, knowing that any moment might be their last; still, however, as resolved as at first not to yield. In another twenty minutes or half an hour they must be killed or prisoners; escape seemed out of the question.
“I wish that I could let my father, and mother, and brothers, and sisters at Ballyshannon know what has become of me,” said Paddy, with a sigh.
“And I wish that I could have again seen my dear mamma,” said Paul, “and my sweet sister Mary, and jolly old Fred, and Sarah, and John, and pretty little Ann. They know that I am a midshipman, and I suppose that that will be some consolation to them if they ever hear that I’ve been killed.”
“Don’t talk like that, young gentlemen. Look there. What do you say to that?” exclaimed Reuben, pointing to the north-west, where standing towards them, close-hauled, and evidently attracted by the firing, was a large, ship, the beams of the rising sun shining brightly on her wide-spread canvas.
“The enemy must see her, but fancy that she is French,” observed Reuben. “But they are greatly mistaken, let me tell them.”
“Hurrah! they’ve found out that they’re wrong, then,” cried O’Grady.
As he spoke, down came the Frenchman’s studden sails, and with a few parting shots, which narrowly missed their mark, he hauled his wind, and stood close-hauled towards the coast of France. He sailed badly before the wind; he sailed worse close-hauled. The stranger, which soon proved to be an English frigate, her ensign blowing out at her peak, came rapidly up. The adventurers cheered as she passed, and received a cheer in return. Those on board evidently understood the true state of the case.
“Why, I do believe that is Devereux himself!” cried Paul, in a tone of delight.
“Well, it is difficult to be certain of a person at such a distance; but it is very like him,” said O’Grady. “But, again, how could he be there? He could not have made his escape from prison.”