English royal family. These were the _Princess
Amelia_, of twenty-four guns and one hundred and fifty men: the
_Prince Frederick_ of twenty-six guns and two hundred and sixty men:
the _Duke_ of twenty guns and two hundred and sixty men; and the _King
George_, of thirty-two guns and three hundred men. This last boat was
commanded by Walker, himself; the _Duke_ by Edward Dottin, a staunch
sailor; the _Prince Frederick_ by Hugh Bromedge; and the _Princess
Amelia_ by Robert Denham. The entire squadron carried nearly a
thousand men and one hundred and two guns, so, you see, that it could
do quite a little damage to the enemies of Merrie England.

Sailing in May, 1746, the squadron soon met with hard luck, for the
_Prince Frederick_ ran upon a rock in Bristol Channel, and had to be
left behind; for she was badly punctured below the water-line. The
three others sailed for the coast of France, and--a week later--had a
startling little adventure.

A heavy fog lay over the sobbing water, and the three English
sea-robbers were gliding along within easy gun-shot of each other,
when it was evident that they were near some other vessels. Voices
came out of the mist, lights flashed (for it was near the close of
day), and the wash of water could be heard, as the waves beat against
solid oak planking.

"Egad!" whispered Captain Walker to one of his lieutenants. "Listen,
my boy, and tell me whether these voices are French, Spanish, or
English."

The lieutenant held a speaking-trumpet to his ear.

The _swish_, _swish_ of water came to the eager senses of the anxious
privateersman. That was all!

Captain Walker passed the word around among his men to be absolutely
silent, and, as he strained his hearing, in order to catch the
faintest sound from the strangers, suddenly he heard the sentence,

"Pressy! Chantez une chanson. Je vais me coucher." (Sing a song,
Pressy. I am going to bed.)

In a second the gallant Walker knew that, as once before, he was in
the midst of some French vessels.

"Caught!" he whispered. "And I believe that they're men-of-warsmen!
Now we're in a pretty pickle!"

His officers scowled.

"I know that they're men-o'-warsmen," said one, "for, just now, the
fog lifted for a second, and I could make out--by their lights--that
they were large gun-ships."

Captain Walker looked dejected.

"The deuce," said he.

But he soon regained his composure.

"Put every light out on board," he ordered. "These fellows