but we soon got inside of their points, and came to close work.  They stood a good tussle, I will say that, and so they always do.  We may laugh at ’em, and call ’em Johnny Crapows, but they are a right brave nation, if they aren’t good seamen; but that I reckon’s the fault of their lingo, for it’s too noisy to carry on duty well with, and so they never will be sailors till they larn English.”

“I never heard them carry on duty in French,” said Ben; “it quite beats my comprehension how they can do it at all.”

“Well, I have,” replied my father; “and every word they use is as long as the maintop bowling, and the mast is over the side before they can get them out.  Why, would you believe it?  I once asked one of those fellows what he called the foremast in his language, and what d’ye think he said?  Why, I’m blowed if he didn’t call it a ’Mar-darty-marng’ (and that’s the only bit of French I know); but how is it possible to work a ship in such gibberish?”

“Quite unpossible,” replied Ben.

“Well, as I’ve yawed a little out of my course, suppose we have another swig before I takes a fresh departure?”

After they had both drunk, my father proceeded: 

“Well, messmate, I was on the gunnel as soon as the others, and a sword came down upon me like a flash of lightning.  I had just time to lift my cutlass and save my head, and then I found that it was the sword of the French lieutenant who commanded the gun-boat.  He was a, tall, clean-built chap, with curls hanging down like a poodle dog’s—­every curl not thicker than a rope yarn, and mayhap a thousand of them—­and he quite foamed at the mouth (that’s another fault of these Frenchmen, they don’t take things coolly, but puts themselves in a passion about nothing); so thinks I to myself it won’t do for you to go on chopping at that rate, for when I fended off he made my whole hand tingle with the force of his blow; so I darts at him and drives the hilt of my cutlass right into his mouth, and he fell, and his own men trod him underfoot, and on we went, hammer and tongs.  By this time the boarding of the launch and pinnace to leeward, for they could not get up as soon as we did, created a divarsion, and bothered the Frenchman, who hardly knew which way to turn; however, as there were more of our men on the other side, they most on ’em faced about; and the French officer was then able to get on his knees again, and while I was busy and did not see him he just give me this cut across the figure-head, which don’t add to my beauty, anyhow.  Well, it was cut for cut, messmate.  I just took one look at the beggar, and I drove my cutlass into his skull, just as he was rising up, and he never rose again.  That’s my story.”

“I suppose you took the craft?”

“Yes; and her consort, too.  But many lost the number of their mess, and I lost all my beauty.  Just hand me the ’baccy, messmate; and, Jack, go for the next pot of beer.”