raft. Say that my
boat was driven from her anchor by a tidal wave--and you can put your
feet upon solid ground."

The three Commissioners scowled, but he had them. Besides they were
sea-sick.

In an hour's time, the desired paper had been drawn up. The _Creole_
was headed for the Mauritius,--and, in eight days, the sad but wiser
Commissioners were brooding over the smartness of Robert Surcouf when
seated in their own snug little homes. "He is a rascal," said one.
"He's a slick and wily cur."

So much reputation came to the young mariner--at this exploit--that he
was soon offered the command of the _Emilie_: a privateer of one
hundred and eighty tons and four guns. He accepted with glee, but when
about to go to sea, the Governor refused him Letters of Marque.

"What shall I do?" asked the crest-fallen Robert, approaching the
owners of the trim and able craft.

"Sail for the Seychelles (Islands off the east coast of Africa) for a
cargo of turtles," said they. "If you fail to find these; fill up with
corn, cotton and fruit. Fight shy of all English cruisers, and battle
if you have to."

Surcouf bowed.

"I am not a regular privateer," he answered. "For I have no Letters of
Marque. But I can defend myself if fired upon, and am an armed vessel
in war-time. I may yet see some fighting."

He was not to be disappointed.

While at anchor at the Seychelles, two large and fat English
men-of-war appeared in the offing. Surcouf had to run for it.

Steering in among the many little islets, which here abound, he
navigated the dangerous channels and got safely off, his men crying,

"Voila! Here is a genius. We did well to ship with such a master!"

But the gallant Surcouf soon turned from privateer to pirate.

South of the Bay of Bengal, a cyclone struck the _Emilie_ and she was
steered for Rangoon, where--

"The flying fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder,
Outer China across the Bay."

And here a British vessel steered for her: white-winged, saucy,
vindictive-looking.

She came on valiantly, and, when within a hundred yards, pumped a shot
across the bow of the drowsing _Emilie_. It meant "Show your colors."

Hoisting the red, white and blue of France, Surcouf replied with three
scorching shots. One struck the Britisher amid-ships, and pumped a
hole in her black boarding.

Like a timid girl, the Englishman veered off, hoisted her topsail, and
tried to get away. She saw that she had caught