Dick was seated on his ammunition tub on the maindeck, when Lord Reginald and Voules, who had each a certain number of guns to look after, passed him.
“I say, Oswald, that young smuggler looks pale enough now,” observed Voules, in a voice sufficiently loud for Dick to hear him. “We must keep a sharp look-out on him, or he’ll be running below to stow himself away in the hold.”
“Trust me for that! those ruffians ashore are the greatest cowards afloat,” answered the young lord, as he passed on.
Dick heard him. “I’ll show him that I am no coward,” he said to himself.
Ben also, who was stationed at one of the guns it was Dick’s duty to serve, heard the remark. “‘Cowards!’ does he call us?” he muttered. “He and Mr Toady will be the first to show the white feather, I’ve a notion.”
Shortly afterwards the sounds of two guns were heard. One shot, glancing along the Wolf’s bow, sent the splinters flying off it, while the other was seen to ricochet over the smooth water. The enemy had fired her stern chasers. The Wolf, without yawing, could not reply. She stood on, therefore, eager to come up with the chase. The latter was seen directly afterwards taking in her studdingsails and royals. The British crew cheered as they saw this. There was no longer any doubt that the enemy was ready to fight. The order was now given to take in all the studdingsails. The royals were next handed; the crew, who had left their quarters for the purpose, immediately hurrying back to their guns. Both frigates were still rapidly running through the water. Suddenly the chase put down her helm and luffed up on the starboard tack, intending to rake the Wolf, which was now coming up on her weather quarter.
“Hard a-starboard!” shouted Captain Moubray, and the Wolf was brought up on the opposite tack, thus avoiding the raking fire, and receiving the enemy’s shot on the starboard side. “Well done!” cried the captain. “Now hard a-port!”
The ship once more came up to the wind, and just clearing the French frigate’s starboard quarter, shot up right abreast of her to windward. Both thus in near proximity, poured their broadsides into each other, and the battle became hot and furious. The British crew ran their guns in and out, the frigate’s shot dealing death and destruction along the decks of her antagonist. It was just the position English sailors like the best. Dick saw several of his shipmates knocked over, and one poor boy, with whom he had just been talking, fell close to his side. He knelt down to help him, but not a movement was perceptible. He took his hand; it fell on the deck. The boy was dead.
Dick’s tub was soon exhausted of its contents, and he hurried below to the magazine to get it refilled. He lost not a moment, but was again at his station.
“They shan’t say I’m skulking,” he muttered. “I wonder what Lord Reginald is doing.”