“It is a Frenchman,” replied I, “and no mistake—­every rope and every sail on her are French;” for the vessel, which was a lugger, was not more than four miles from us.

“Well,” replied Bramble, “it would be odd if we were to be taken into a French port after all, wouldn’t it? not very pleasant, though.”

“We’ve men enough to beat her off, or two of her, if that’s all,” replied I.

“Yes, Tom, but I doubt the captain, and without example men don’t fight well.  However, we’ll do our best, and if he flinches we won’t.”

The captain now came forward as red as a turkey-cock; he said nothing, looked at the vessel, and then turned as white as a sheet.

“She’s more than our match, if she’s an enemy,” said he.

“I should rather think not, sir,” replied Bramble.  “All you have to do is to make your men fight, and nail your colors to the mast.”

“That’s very true when there’s a fair chance of success, but it’s useless sacrificing the men against so very superior a force,” replied the captain.

“But it ain’t superior, nor in guns is she your equal, if I know anything about a vessel.  At all events, I suppose you’ll have a trial for it.  Won’t you beat to quarters, captain?”

“Oh, to be sure.  Mr. Stubbs, beat to quarters.  I think it would not be a bad thing to fire off our broadsides now, and let them see that we are well armed.”

The men were summoned up to quarters, and very unwillingly did they obey.  Some said that they did not come on board to fight, others that they had agreed to work the passage home, but not to stand to be shot at; and some were actually going down below again, when Bramble and the mate spoke to them and persuaded them to remain on deck.  Still there was no willingness shown; and although Bramble told them how many privateers had been beaten off, and mentioned particularly the Leith smack having the other day fought with one an hour and a half, and knocked her all to pieces, they still appeared uneasy and wavering.

In the meantime the privateer was within a mile of us, and had hoisted French colors.

“We’ll keep away and give her the first broadside,” cried the captain.

“You’d better hoist your colors first,” observed Bramble, quietly.

“Hoist the colors, Mr. Stubbs!  Port the helm!  Look out, my men!  Point the guns to the object!  Fire!”

Off went all the guns, not only on the starboard side, in the direction of the privateer, but all those on the larboard side as well; and this circumstance probably gave the people on board of the privateer some idea of the state of confusion we were in.  She now rounded to, and gave us her broadside of three guns:  they were well directed, and did us some damage in the upper works and rigging; but still more in frightening the people, who were now running down below, notwithstanding the exertions of the mate, Bramble, one or two of