As he spoke, he kept moving about the berth like a hyena in its cage; and soon, unable any longer to restrain his impatience, out he darted and unimpeded reached the deck. The pursuing frigate ran up the British colours, and opened her fire with a couple of bow-chasers. She had good reason to do so, for the Frenchman was steering to the southward and land was ahead. One of the shot struck the counter of La Ralieuse, the other passed a little on one side. True Blue gazed earnestly and long at the English frigate. He was recalled in a disagreeable way to a sense of where he was by feeling the point of a cutlass pressed against his back, and, looking round, he saw a seaman with no pleasant looks grinning at him and pointing below.
What the man said he could not make out. He got out of the fellow’s way and hurried below. “Paul, I am right!” he exclaimed. “She is either the Ruby or another frigate so like her that you couldn’t tell one from the other.”
The next ten minutes were passed in a state of great anxiety, and when True Blue again looked out, he reported that the Frenchmen were shortening sail preparatory to commencing action. The crew were all at their stations. An unusual silence reigned on board. The Captain was making a speech. It was about liberty, equality, and fraternity, and the bonnet rouge was displayed.
The cheers were cut very short by a broadside from the English frigate, the shot of which crashed through the Frenchman’s sides, tore up the planks, and carried off the heads of two or more of the cheerers.
“That was a right hearty English broadside!” exclaimed Paul. “I could almost fancy I knew the sound of the shot. I wish that you and I were with them, Billy, instead of being cooped up here.”
The English had not the game all to themselves. The French almost immediately replied with considerable spirit to the compliment they had received.
“They are having a running fight of it—yardarm to yardarm, as far as I can make out,” said Paul. “Well, that’s the right way to go about the business. A brave fellow commands the English frigate, whatever she is.”
“She’s no bigger than the Frenchman,” said True Blue.
“Maybe not, Billy,” observed Paul, lifting himself up on his elbow. “It isn’t the size of the ship—it’s the men on board her makes the difference. Depend on’t, those in the ship alongside us are of the right sort and properly commanded.”
Presently there was a louder noise on deck than usual, and evident confusion. True Blue could contain his curiosity no longer, and before Paul could stop him, he had darted out of the berth.