“I’m sure I don’t want any such honour and glory, and I wish you wouldn’t speak about such things,” groaned out Dickenson. “Perhaps we shan’t have a fight after all.”
“I hope we shall, though,” exclaimed his more plucky messmate; “that is to say if it does not last too long. I could hold out for an hour or so, but then I think I should begin to wish it was over.”
“Beg pardon, young gentlemen; you’d hold out better after the first hour than for the first five minutes,” observed old Jacob Crane, who had overheard the conversation. “Just let us exchange a couple of broadsides and you’d think no more about the matter than if you were snowballing each other. I know the stuff you’re made of too well to doubt that.”
“Thank you, Crane, for the compliment,” said Chandos; “but do you think we shall have a fight?”
“Sure on’t,” answered the old man; “just look out over the larboard bow and you’ll see three ships hove to, and some bright lights in the stern of the biggest of them. She’s a lumping frigate if she isn’t something larger, and though our signal has been hoisted some time she hasn’t answered it.”
The midshipmen, whose eyes were not so well accustomed to pierce the gloom of night as were old Jacob’s, had at first some difficulty in distinguishing the three ships, though they saw the bright lights he pointed out. Gradually the frigate drew near, and the tall masts and widespread canvas of the strangers appeared clearly enough against the sky, like large phantoms stalking across the waters. Still the private signal remained unanswered. There could be no longer any doubt that the largest ship was an enemy, and that she had captured one or both of the others. Notwithstanding her apparent superiority, Captain Shortland did not hesitate about attacking her. Sail was shortened, and the frigate stood on with topsails, jib, and spanker set, so as to be thoroughly under command. It was no longer necessary to keep the ports closed. The order to open them and to run out the guns was given, and at the same time the crews of the guns were cautioned not to fire a shot till they heard the word of command. The hearts of the coolest beat quicker than usual when about midnight the Falcon drew within a mile of the enemy. The lights from the fighting lanterns of the latter, which exhibited two rows of ports, with only a small space between them, gave her a most formidable appearance. She evidently carried many more guns than the English frigate.
“What’s the odds, lads,” cried old Jacob, when some of the men near him remarked this. “It isn’t the number of guns a ship carries will give her the victory, it’s the way they are fought, and we’ll soon show the mounseers how we can handle ours.”
In a short time the enemy filled his sails, the two ships thus nearing each other more rapidly; then suddenly he hove in stays when on the lee bow of the Falcon, and his guns thundering forth, sent their shot flying through her rigging, the only serious effect, however, of which was to bring down her jib. The Falcon crew stood ready, the captains of the guns with lanyards in hand eager to fire in return, but no order came. Captain Shortland knew that he could depend on the steadiness of his crew, and was reserving their fire for a shorter and more effective distance. Several more shots hurtled through the air around them.
“The weathermost of the smaller ships Is firing at us, sir,” observed the first lieutenant to the captain.
“Never mind that, we can settle with her by-and-by,” was the answer.