schooner should prove the _Red Hand_, and that's as like as not, for he's
the pluckiest man they have, you know what it means. It'll be hard fighting
and no quarter. But he's worth taking. The London merchants have put a
price on him, and there'll be that, and himself, and a share in the
Indiaman besides, and we'll go back to Peter Port with our pockets lined."

We gave him a cheer and hungered for the fray.

John Ozanne took us round in a wide sweep to open the ships, and every eye
and glass was glued to them. As we rounded the Indiaman's great gilded
stern, about a mile away, it did not need John Ozanne's emphatic--"It's
him!" to tell us we were in for a tough fight, and that three prizes lay
for our taking. We gave John another cheer, tightened our belts, and
perhaps--I can speak for one at all events--wondered grimly how it would be
with some of us a couple of hours later.

The Frenchman cast off at once and came to meet us, the Red Hand flying at
his masthead, the red lump at his bows, the red streak clearly visible just
below the open gun-ports.

"Do your duty, lads," said John Ozanne. "There'll be tough work for us. He
carries heavy metal. We'll close with him at all odds, and then the British
bull-dog must see to it."

We gave him another cheer, and then a cloud of white smoke burst from the
Frenchman's fore deck, and our topmast and all its hamper came down with a
crash, and our deck rumbled with bitter curses.

"---- him!" said Martin Cohu. "That's not fair play. Dismantling shot or
I'm a Dutchman! It's only devils and Yankees use shot like that. ---- me,