As to there being any danger of their being captured, that did not enter the heads of the British tars.
“Come, bear a hand, boys,” said Paul. “We must take this here chap first, and then, if the calm holds for a little longer, we may get all ataunto and be ready for the others. One down, the other come on. That’s it, boys.”
Strange to say, except one man, who had his leg broken by the recoil of a gun he was fighting, not a man on board the Ruby had been hit, though it was evident that numbers of the Frenchmen had been killed, as several were seen thrown overboard. The British began to grow impatient. The French frigate was holding out, probably in expectation of assistance from her consort. The breeze now increased, and the stranger in the offing approached.
“Hurrah!” cried Paul Pringle, “another broadside, lads, and the Monsieurs will haul down their flag.”
Paul’s assertion proved correct. Down came the Frenchman’s colours, after an action which lasted two hours and ten minutes. She proved to be the thirty-eight-gun frigate Réunion, Captain François Adénian.
Numbers of people stood on the French shore watching the combat, and much disappointed they must have been at its termination. The Réunion’s consort, the Sémillante, was seen to make an attempt to come out of harbour to her assistance; but there was not wind sufficient for her to stem a contrary and very strong tide.
“I do wish she’d come!” exclaimed Paul Pringle as he eyed her, while he and his companions were repairing damages, again to make sail. “We’d have her too—I know we should.”
“I thought that I should bring you good luck, Monsieur le Captain,” said the old pilot when the action was over; “I always do.”
“I hope you will stay with us and bring us more, then,” answered Captain Garland.
“With all my heart,” was the answer; and so it was arranged.