extremely well, but, not content with
his laurels already won, he soon put out again upon the _Argo_, in
company with another privateer from Providence, Rhode Island, called
the _Saratoga_; which sailed under a Captain Munro. They were not off
the coast more than two days when they came across the _Dublin_; a
smart, English privateer-cutter of fourteen guns, coming out of Sandy
Hook. Instead of running away, she ploughed onward, and cleared for
action.

The _Argo_ and the _Saratoga_ ran in upon the windward quarter and
banged away with audacity. The fight lasted for an hour. Then--as the
_Argo_ tacked in closer in order to grapple and board--the _Saratoga_
was headed for the privateer. But--instead of coming in--she began to
run off in the wind.

"Hard a-weather! Hard up there with the helm!" cried Captain Munro.

"It is hard up!" cried the steersman.

"You lie, you blackguard!" cried Munro. "She goes away lasking! Hard
a-weather I say again!"

"It is hard a-weather, I say again, captain," cried the fellow at the
tiller.

"Captain Talbot thinks that I am running away when I want to join
him," cried Munro. "What the deuce is the matter anyway?"

"Why, I can tell you," cried a young Lieutenant. "You've got an iron
tiller in place of the wooden one, and she's loose in the rudder head,
so your boat won't steer correctly."

"Egad, you're right," said Munro, as he examined the top of the
tiller. "Now, jam her over and we'll catch this _Dublin_ of old
Ireland, or else I'm no sailor. We'll give her a broadside, too, when
we come up."

The _Argo_, meanwhile, was hammering the Englishman in good fashion,
and, as the _Saratoga_ pumped a broadside into her--raking her from
bow to stern--the _Dublin_ struck her colors.

"Two to one, is too much odds," cried the English captain, as a boat
neared the side of his vessel. "I could have licked either of you,
alone."

And, at this, both of the American privateersmen chuckled.

Old "Si" Talbot was soon in another fight. Three days later he chased
another sail, and coming up with her, found his antagonist to be the
_Betsy_: an English privateer of twelve guns and fifty-eight men,
commanded by an honest Scotchman.

The _Argo_ ranged up alongside and Talbot hailed the stranger. After a
bit of talk he hoisted the Stars and Stripes, crying,

"You must haul down those British colors, my friend!"

To which the Scot replied:

"Notwithstanding I find you an enemy, as I suspect