en or twenty guns, and have a hundred and fifty men on board, and
they'll swear they fought us for three hours. They have something to
boast of, that's certain; and I suspect that French captain is a brave
sort of chap, from the sneer he gave when our cowardly English lubber
gave him so fine a speech. Well, it's our disgrace!"

Here Bramble was silent for some time, when I said to him, "You were
stating to the men how a Leith smack beat off a privateer the other day.
I never heard of it."

"Yes, I heard it when I was up above Greenwich. I met an old friend who
was on board of her, for he took his passage in her from London.

"'Why,' says he to me, 'Bramble, I thought we never should have got away
from the river, for the old captain, who was as big round as a puncheon,
and not unlike one, declared that he would not sail until the powder
came up from Woolwich; for the "Queen Charlotte" (that was the name of
the smack) carried six eighteen-pound carronades. We waited nearly a
week for the powder, and many a laugh we all had about it, thinking old
Nesbitt was not much of a fighter, from his making so much fuss. Well,
at last we boomed her off from the wharf, and about seven that night got
clear of the Thames; it was a fair breeze all night, and we ran through
the Swin by the lead, which is what every one won't attempt. Next
morning we were off Yarmouth Roads, with the water as yellow as pea
soup: never saw it otherwise, and I'm an old collier; reason why, the
swells of the ocean thrashes up the sands off there--ay, and shifts them
too occasionally, which is of more consequence. Well, Bramble,' says he,
'well, on we went; hauled in through Harborough Gut; then the sun had so
much power--for it was in the Dog Days--that it eat up the wind, and we
were obliged to content ourselves with getting four knots out of her.
Just as we made the Dudgeon Lightboat, old Nesbitt's son comes aft to
his father, who was steering the craft, and says, "Father, do you see
that 'ere brig crowding all sail after us? I think it be the New Custom
House brig trying his rate of sailing with us."

"'"Never you mind what she is, boy," says the captain, "but away up and
furl the gaff-topsail."

"'Meanwhile the brig overhauled us fast, and old Nesbitt kept a-looking
round at her every two or three minutes. At last he says to the mate,
"Take the wheel a bit," and he goes first and looks over the quarter.
"I see," says he; "I say, you sergeant and corpo