"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.

The schooner came racing on, and rounded to with a beautiful sweep just out
of reach of our guns. Practice had made him perfect. He knew his damnable
business to the last link in the chain.

We could see his deck black with men, and presently a boat dropped neatly
and came bounding towards us.

"Depress your carronades and discharge them," ordered a black-bearded young
man in her, in excellent English, as they hooked on. "If one is withdrawn,
we will blow you out of the water."

The guns were discharged. The schooner gave a coquettish shake and came
sweeping down alongside the Indiaman; some of her crew leaped into our main
chains, and lashed the two ships together. Then a mob of rough-looking
rascals came swarming up our side, and at their head was one at sight of
whom my breath caught in my throat, and I rubbed my eyes in startled
amazement, lest their forty-eight hours' salting should have set them
astray.

But they told true, and a black horror and a cold fear fell upon me. I saw
the bloody scum swirling round on the _Swallow's_ deck as she sank. I saw
the heads of my struggling shipmates disappearing one by one under those
felon shots from the schooner. I saw once more that little round hole bore
itself in John Ozanne's forehead on the spar. And I knew that there was not