“She has tacked and is standing towards us,” he said, addressing Captain Walford.
“Sorry to hear it, Mr Turtle. Is she big or little?”
“Why, sir, she has very square yards, and has much the look of a foreign man-of-war,” answered the master.
“Umph! If she is Spanish we may beat her off, but if she proves French, she may be a somewhat tough customer; however, you will try, of course, Mr Turtle.”
“If you advise resistance, we’ll make it, sir, and do our best,” said Captain Turtle, who, though fat, had no lack of spirit.
“By all means. Turn the hands up, load the guns, and open the arm-chest,” was the answer.
The crew of the Guava, which was rather of a mixed character—blacks, mulattoes, Malays, Portuguese, and other foreigners,—were not very eager for the fight, but when they saw the spirit of the naval officers, especially of the young midshipmen, they loaded the guns, stuck the pistols in their belts, and girded on their cutlasses to prepare for the fight.
The Guava, of course, could not hope to escape by flight, so the safest course was to put a bold face on the matter, and to stand on. The stranger rapidly approached. There could no longer be any doubt as to her nationality, though no colours flew from her peak. She was pronounced to be French, though whether a national ship or a privateer was doubtful.
“If she is a privateer and we are taken, our chances of fair treatment are very small,” observed Captain Walford.
“It will be hard lines for the skipper, after performing so gallant an action, to fall into the hands of the enemy,” observed O’Grady. “For my part, I’d sooner blow up the ship.”