“Alice,” he said at length abruptly, “yonder vessel is a pirate.”

Mrs. Ellice looked up in surprise, and her face grew pale as her eye met the troubled gaze of her husband.

“Are you quite sure, Frederick?”

“Yes, quite.  Would God that I were left alone to—­but—­nay, do not be alarmed; perhaps I am wrong, it may be a—­a clipper-built trading-vessel.  If not, Alice, we must make some show of fighting, and try to frighten them.  Meanwhile you must go below.”

The captain spoke encouragingly as he led his wife to the cabin; but his candid countenance spoke too truthfully, and she felt that his look of anxious concern bade her fear the worst.

Pressing her fervently to his heart, Captain Ellice sprang on deck.

By this time the news had spread through the ship, and the crew, consisting of upwards of thirty men, were conversing earnestly in knots of four or five while they sharpened and buckled on cutlasses, or loaded pistols and carbines.

“Send the men aft, Mr. Thompson,” said the captain, as he paced the deck to and fro, casting his eyes occasionally on the schooner, which was rapidly nearing the vessel.  “Take another pull at these main-topsail-halyards, and send the steward down below for my sword and pistols.  Let the men look sharp; we’ve no time to lose, and hot work is before us.”

“I will go for your sword, father,” cried Fred, who had just come on deck.

“Boy, boy, you must go below; you can be of no use here.”

“But, father, you know that I’m not afraid.”

“I know that, boy—­I know it well; but you’re too young to fight—­you’re not strong enough.  Besides, you must comfort and cheer your mother; she may want you.”

“I’m old enough and strong enough to load and fire a pistol, father; and I heard one of the men say we would need all the hands on board, and more if we had them.  Besides, it was my mother who told me what was going on, and sent me on deck to help you, to fight.”

A momentary gleam of pride lit up the countenance of the captain as he said hastily, “You may stay, then,” and turned towards the men, who now stood assembled on the quarter-deck.

Addressing the crew in his own blunt, vigorous style, he said, “Lads, yon rascally schooner is a pirate, as you all know well enough.  I need not ask you if you are ready to fight; I see by your looks you are.  But that’s not enough—­you must make up your minds to fight well.  You know that pirates give no quarter.  I see the decks are swarming with men.  If you don’t go at them like bull-dogs, you’ll walk the plank before sunset every man of you.  Now, go forward, and double-shot your muskets and pistols, and stick as many of the latter into your belts as they will hold.  Mr. Thompson, let the gunner double-shot the four big guns, and load the little carronade with musket-balls to the muzzle.  If they do try to board us, they’ll get a warm reception.”