“’Meanwhile the brig overhauled us fast, and old Nesbitt kept a-looking round at her every two or three minutes.  At last he says to the mate, “Take the wheel a bit,” and he goes first and looks over the quarter.  “I see,” says he; “I say, you sergeant and corporal” (for we had a recruiting party on board), “suppose now you just help us to load our guns and work them a little, for I expect this here craft will give us plenty to do.”

“’Well, Bramble, as I stand here, if six of them lobsters didn’t say nothing, but just walk down below; but the sergeant was a trump of a fellow, and so was his wife.  He threw off his coat and cap covered with ribbons, tied a handkerchief round his head, and set to work with a will; and his wife backed him to the last, handing the powder and everything else.  Well, we had with us ten men who all stood to guns; but the passengers went down below with the soldiers.  Well, on comes the brig upon our starboard quarter as if to board; all her fore rigging, and forechains, and forecastle being full of men as bees in a swarm.

“Are you all ready, my men?” said the captain.

“Yes, all ready, sir.”

“Yes, and I be ready too, massa!” cried the black cook, bringing out from the caboose the red-hot poker.

“Well, then, up on the wind with her, and fire when the guns bear.”

“’The men kept their eyes on the guns; and when they cried “Fire!” the cook set them all off, one after another, with the hot poker, and no small mischief did these three guns do.  His forecastle was cleared of men in no time; down came his gaff and foretopsail, and being now right on our beam, he put his helm up to lay us on board; but we were too quick for him—­we wore round too, and gave him the three other guns, which did him no good.

[Illustration:  THE LEITH SMACK AND THE PRIVATEER.—­Marryat, Vol.  X., p. 335.]

“’Well, he came after us on the other tack, and pelted us with musketry in a cruel way.  The mate was hit in the head, and taken down below; and poor old Nesbitt, who was at the wheel, steering the craft beautifully, had a bullet right into his bow-window, as they call it.  “Well,” the old fellow says, “here’s a shot between wind and water, I reckon—­we must have a plug;” so he puts his flippers into his waistband, and stuffs his flannel jacket into the hole.  Then we throws her up in the wind again, and rakes him with our three guns well into him, and carries away more of his gear, and stops his sailing—­and so we goes on for a whole hour and thirty-five minutes; and, to make a long story short, we beat him off, and he turned tail and ran for it with both pumps going.’

“Now you see, Tom, that’s the account of the affair given to me by a man who I can trust; and there you see what can be done if men are resolute and determined to fight.  Some little difference between that affair and this one, Tom.”

“Did old Nesbitt die or recover?”