“Patry what?”

“Patriotic—­a right way of thinking of one’s own country.  An Englishman isn’t worth the name who helps England’s enemies.”

Bulger looked at him in amazement.  The idea of patriotism was evidently new to him.

“I’ll have to put that there notion in my pipe and smoke it,” he said.  “I’d fight any mounseer, or Dutchman, or Portuguee as soon as look at him, ’tis on’y natural; but if a mounseer likes to give me twopence for a thing that’s worth a penny—­why, I’ll say thank ’ee and axe him—­leastways if there’s any matey by as knows the lingo—­to buy another.”

Shortly after dawn next morning the lookout reported four vessels to windward.  From their appearance Captain Barker at once concluded that two were Company’s ships, with an escort of a couple of grabs.  As he was still scanning them he was joined by Diggle, with whom he entered into conversation.

“They’re making for Bombay, I reckon,” said the captain.

“I take it we don’t wish to come to close quarters with them, Barker?”

“By thunder, no!  But if we hold our present course we’re bound to pass within hailing distance.  Better put ’em off the scent.”

He altered the vessel’s course a point or two with the object of passing to windward of the strangers, as if steering for the Portuguese port of Goa.

“They are running up their colors,” remarked Diggle, half an hour later.

“British, as I thought.  We’ll hoist Portuguese.”

A minute or two later a puff of smoke was observed to sally from the larger of the two grabs, followed in a few seconds by the boom of a gun.

“A call to us to heave to,” said Bulger, in answer to Desmond’s inquiry.  “The unbelievin’ critters thinks that Portuguee rag is all my eye.”

But the Good Intent was by this time to windward of the vessels, and Captain Barker, standing on the quarterdeck, paid no heed to the signal.  After a short interval another puff came from the deck of the grab, and a round shot plunged into the sea a cable’s length from the Good Intent’s bows, the grab at the same time hauling her wind and preparing to alter her course in pursuit.  This movement was at once copied by the other three vessels, but being at least half a mile ahead of the grab that had fired, they were a long distance astern when the chase—­for chase it was to be—­began.

Captain Barker watched the grab with the eyes of a lynx.  The Good Intent had run out of range while the grab was being put about; but the captain knew very well that the pursuer could sail much closer to the wind than his own vessel, and that his only chance was to beat off the leading boat before the others had time to come up.

It required very little at any time to put Captain Barker into a rage, and his demeanor was watched now with different feelings by different members of the crew.  Diggle alone appeared unconcerned; he was smiling as he lolled against the mast.