“Carre,” said the captain, as I climbed the ladder, “look there!  Is that the ——­ villain?” and pointed over the starboard quarter.

One look was enough for me.  I had stared hard enough at that long black hull three days before, while it thrashed us to death with its whirling devilries.  And there was no mistaking the splash of red on his foretopsail.

“It’s him, captain;” and the ladies wrung their hands, while the men looked deadly grim, and the captain took a black turn along the deck and came back and stood in front of them.

“It’s not in an Englishman’s heart to give in without a fight,” he said gruffly, “and I’m not in the habit of asking any man’s advice about my own business, but from what this man says that ——­ villain over yonder can flay us to pieces at his pleasure and we can’t touch him;” and he looked at me.

“That is so,” I said.

“If we let him have his way the chances are he’ll take all he wants and go.  If we fight—­My God, how can we fight?  We can’t reach him.  What would you do now?  You’ve been through it once with him,” he turned suddenly on me.

“I’d give five years of my life to have a grip of his throat—­”

“And how’d you get there under these conditions, my man?”

“You can’t do a thing, captain.  And anything you try will only make it worse.  He’ll send you one of his damnable cart-wheels aboard and you’ll see the effect.  You know how far your carronades will carry.”

“Get you below, all of you,” he said to his white-faced passengers.  “No need to get yourselves killed.  He’ll probably go for our spars, but when shots are flying you can’t tell what’ll happen.  Stop you with me!” he said to me, and the poop cleared quickly of all outsiders.

The schooner came on like a racehorse.  While yet a great way off a puff of smoke balled out on his fore-deck and disappeared before the report reached us.

“That’s blank to tell us to stop.  I must have more to justify me than that,” said the captain, and held on.

Another belch of white smoke on the schooner, and in a minute our foremast was sliced through at the cap, and the foretopmast, with its great square sails, and their hamper, was banging on the deck, while the jibs and staysail fell into the sea to leeward, and the big ship fell off her course and nosed round towards the wind.

“——­ him!  That’s dismantling shot and no mistake about it.  There’s nothing else for it.  Haul down that flag!” cried the captain; and we were captive to Red Hand.

“Sink his ——­ boats as he comes aboard, sir!” said one of the mates in a black fury.  “He’s only a ——­ pirate.”

“I would, if we’d gain anything by it,” said the captain grimly.  “But it’d only end in him sinking us.  Our pop-guns are out of it;” and they stood there, with curses in their throats—­it was a cursing age, you must remember—­and faces full of gloomy anger, as helpless against the Frenchman’s long-range guns as seagulls on a rock.