Taking out the prisoners and putting a prize crew on board, Captain Courtney stood back, with the schooner in tow, towards the mouth of the harbour; then again firing another shot of defiance, he bore away to the westward.
“The Frenchmen will bear a great deal, but they will not bear that,” observed Morton to his son. “Before this time tomorrow we shall either be inside that harbour, feeling very much ashamed of ourselves—and I don’t think that is likely to happen—or we shall have that frigate in there for our prize, and be standing away with her for old England.”
The “Thisbe” had got some eight miles or so away from the land, when the French frigate was seen under sail and standing towards her. Captain Courtney was anxious to draw the enemy as far from the coast as possible, lest, when the hoped-for result of the action should become known, notice might be sent of the event to other ports to the northward, and a superior force despatched to capture him. He accordingly hove-to occasionally, and then stood on to entice the enemy after him.
When the evening closed in, the Frenchman was in sight about two leagues off, coming up astern. The “Thisbe,” now casting off the prize, stood towards her. At this time there was no other sail in sight, with the exception of a small boat, apparently a fishing boat, which kept as close as she could to the “Thisbe,” possibly to watch what was going to take place.
Captain Courtney’s object was, of course, to obtain the weather gauge; and in consequence of having to manoeuvre to obtain it, it was not till past midnight that the two ships got within range of each other’s guns. Not a man of the “Thisbe’s” crew had turned in. The drum beat to quarters. The men flew to their stations with pistols in their belts and cutlasses by their sides, eager to begin the fight.
The “Thisbe” was on the starboard tack, when the enemy, on the larboard tack, slowly glided past her to windward, looking like some dark phantom stalking over the surface of the deep.
Ronald, who stood on the forecastle with his father, watched her with intense eagerness. Presently a sheet of flame burst from her side, followed by the loud thunder of the guns and the whizzing of shot. A few came near the English frigate, but none struck her.
“Return the compliment, my lads. Give it them!” exclaimed Captain Courtney.
The crew, with a cheer, obeyed the order, the flashes of their guns throwing a ruddy glow on the bulwarks and the figures of the crew, as stern and grim they stood at their quarters.
“Hands about ship!” was the next order issued; and the “Thisbe,” tacking in the wake of her opponent, stood after her.