hull with red streak, carrying an unusually large crew and unusually heavy
metal. She flew a white flag with a red hand on it, her red figure-head was
said to represent the same device, and she was known by the name of _La
Main Rouge_.

John Ozanne folded the bill methodically and stowed it safely away in his
pocket-book.

"It'd be a fortune if we caught him full," he said thoughtfully. "They say
he takes no prizes. Just helps himself to what he wants like a highwayman,
and then sheers off and looks out for another. Rare pickings he must have
had among some of those fat East Indiamen. Here's to our falling in with
him!" and we clicked our mugs on that right hopefully.

"What weight do we carry?" I asked, in view of the Frenchman's heavy guns,
our own not being yet mounted.

"Four eighteens a-side, and one twenty-four forward and one aft. There'll
be some chips flying if we meet him, but we'll do our best to close his
fist and stop his grabbing. You're wanting to get back? Come over day after
to-morrow and give me a hand. I'll be glad of your help;" and I dropped
into my boat and pulled out into the wind, and ran up my lug for home.

"So you saw Torode himself, Phil? And what is he like?" asked my
grandfather, as I told them the day's doings.

"Big, black, grim-looking fellow. Just what you'd expect. On the whole I'm
not sorry I'm going with John Ozanne. He seems pleased to have me too, and
that's something."