owsprit
had broken his taffrail; but the mistake of my Lieutenant made me lose
the opportunity of one of the most surprising adventures ever heard
tell of.

"In the determination I was in to perish or to capture this ship,
which was much the fastest sailor of the squadron, it was more than
probable that I should have succeeded, and should thus have taken back
to France a much stronger ship than that which I abandoned. And, not
to speak of the credit which would have attached to the execution of
such a plan, it is quite certain that--being dismasted--there was
absolutely no other way for me to escape from forces so superior."

But closer--always closer--crowded the British war-dogs, and the
valorous French seamen became panic stricken. "We are outnumbered and
outfought," cried many, and, deserting their guns, they fled below to
the holds, in spite of the vigorous protests of Du Guay-Trouin.

"I was busy trying to put a stop to the panic," says he. "I had cut
down one and pistolled another, when, to crown my misfortune, fire
broke out in the gun-room. The fear of being blown up made it
necessary for me to go below; but, having got the fire put out, I had
a tub full of grenades brought me, and began throwing them down into
the hold.

"By this means I compelled the deserters to come up and to man some of
the lower deck guns; but, when I went up on the poop, I found, to my
astonishment and vexation, that some cowardly rascal had taken
advantage of my absence to haul down the colors.

"I ordered them to be hoisted again; but my officers represented that
to do so would be simply giving up the remnant of my ship's company to
be butchered by the English, who would give no quarter if the flag
were hoisted again, after being struck for so long, and that further
resistance was hopeless as the ship was dismasted."

"Never give in, for"--cried Du Guay-Trouin, whose democratic blood was
now up, but he did not finish the sentence as a spent shot then
knocked him senseless. And--as he fell--the white flag went aloft, for
his officers had not his fighting spirit.

"Ah ha," laughed the English jack-tars. "We've got the French rascal
at last, and we'll hold him too."

So little Renee was imprisoned in a nice, dark dungeon,--the kind
which the English used to put their poor debtors in. But--like a true
man of courage--little Renee escaped, took to a smuggler's skiff, and
made off to the coast of France, where he arrived on the 18t