be trusted the len'th of a lead line. An'
they beant seamen eno' to keep a full an' by with all their 'takteek'.
Ez fer that Landais, I hearn him whinin' at the commodore in the round
house when we was off Clear, an' sayin' as how he would tell Sartin on us
when he gets back to Paree. An' jabberin to th'other Frenchmen as was
there that this here butter-cask was er King's ship, an' that the
commodore weren't no commodore nohow. They say as how Cap'n Jones be
bound up in a hard knot by some articles of agreement, an' daresn't
punish him. Be that so, Mr. Carvel?"

I said that it was.

"Shiver my bulkheads!" cried Jack, "I gave my oath to that same, sir.
For I knowed the commodore was the lad t' string 'em to the yard-arm an'
he had the say on it. Oh, the devil take the Frenchies," said Jack,
rolling his quid to show his pleasure of the topic, "they sits on their
bottoms in Brest and L'Oriong an' talks takteek wi' their han's and
mouths, and daresn't as much as show the noses o' their three-deckers in
th' Bay o' Biscay, while Cap'n Jones pokes his bowsprit into every port
in England with a hulk the rats have left. I've had my bellyful o'
Frenchies, Mr. Carvell save it be to fight 'em. An' I tell 'ee 'twould
give me the greatest joy in life t' leave loose 'Scolding Sairy' at that
there Landais. Th' gal ain't had a match on her this here cruise, an' t'
my mind she couldn't be christened better, sir."

I left him patting the gun with a tender affection.

The scene on board was quiet and peaceful enough that morning. A knot of
midshipmen on the forecastle were discussing Landais's conduct, and
cursing the concordat which prevented our commodore from bringing him up
short. Mr. Stacey, the sailing-master, had the deck, and the coasting
pilot was conning; now and anon the boatswain's whistle piped for Garrett
or Quito or Fogg to lay aft to the mast, where the first lieutenant stood
talking to Colonel de Chamillard, of the French marines. The scavengers
were sweeping down, and part of the after guard was bending a new
bolt-rope on a storm staysail.

Then the--fore-topmast crosstrees reports a sail on the weather quarter,
the Richard is brought around on the wind, and away we go after a
brigantine, "flying like a snow laden with English bricks," as Midshipman
Coram jokingly remarks. A chase is not such a novelty with us that we
crane our necks to windward.

At noon, when I relieved Mr. Stacey of the deck, the sun had eaten u