I had strolled out in ’the afternoon with Cousin Edie and Rob, until we found ourselves upon the brow of the slope which dips away down to the beach.  It was late in the fall, and the links were all bronzed and faded; but the sun still shone warmly, and a south breeze came in little hot pants, rippling the broad blue sea with white curling lines.  I pulled an armful of bracken to make a couch for Edie, and there she lay in her listless fashion, happy and contented; for of all folk that I have ever met, she had the most joy from warmth and light.  I leaned on a tussock of grass, with Rob’s head upon my knee, and there as we sat alone in peace in the wilderness, even there we saw suddenly thrown upon the waters in front of us the shadow of that great man over yonder, who had scrawled his name in red letters across the map of Europe.  There was a ship coming up with the wind, a black sedate old merchant-man, bound for Leith as likely as not.  Her yards were square and she was running with all sail set.  On the other tack, coming from the north-east, were two great ugly lugger-like craft, with one high mast each, and a big square brown sail.  A prettier sight one would not wish than to see the three craft dipping along upon so fair a day.  But of a sudden there came a spurt of flame and a whirl of blue smoke from one lugger, then the same from the second, and a rap, rap, rap, from the ship.  In a twinkling hell had elbowed out heaven, and there on the waters was hatred and savagery and the lust for blood.

We had sprung to our feet at the outburst, and Edie put her hand all in a tremble upon my arm.

“They are fighting, Jack!” she cried.  “What are they?  Who are they?”

My heart was thudding with the guns, and it was all that I could do to answer her for the catch of my breath.

“It’s two French privateers, Edie,” said I, “Chasse-marries, they call them, and yon’s one of our merchant ships, and they’ll take her as sure as death; for the Major says they’ve always got heavy guns, and are as full of men as an egg is full of meat.  Why doesn’t the fool make back for Tweedmouth bar?”

But not an inch of canvas did she lower, but floundered on in her stolid fashion, while a little black ball ran up to her peak, and the rare old flag streamed suddenly out from the halliard.  Then again came the rap, rap, rap, of her little guns, and the boom, boom of the big carronades in the bows of the lugger.  An instant later the three ships met, and the merchant-man staggered on like a stag with two wolves hanging to its haunches.  The three became but a dark blurr amid the smoke, with the top spars thrusting out in a bristle, and from the heart of that cloud came the quick red flashes of flame, and such a devils’ racket of big guns and small, cheering and screaming, as was to din in my head for many a week.  For a stricken hour the hell-cloud moved slowly across the face of the water, and still with our hearts in our mouths we watched the flap of the flag, straining to see if it were yet there.  And then suddenly, the ship, as proud and black and high as ever, shot on upon her way; and as the smoke cleared we saw one of the luggers squattering like a broken winged duck upon the water, and the other working hard to get the crew from her before she sank.