ouple of sailors sprawling. A bullet had embedded itself in the
timbers at his feet.

He determined to use summary measures, and ordered twelve grenadiers,
with fixed bayonets, to advance to the cabin door, break it open, and
overpower the Englishman.

The twelve men advanced as they were bidden. The sergeant was
half-way down the ladder, with his detachment at his heels, when the
report of a musket was heard and down he dropped with a ball in his
leg. The grenadiers hesitated. Another shot followed. It was
pretty clear that the besieged man had plenty of firearms loaded and
ready. They scrambled up the steps again. "It was all very well,"
they said; "but as they could only advance in single file, exposing
their legs before they could use their arms, the Englishman from
behind his barricade could shoot them down like sheep."

M. de la Pailletine stamped and swore, upbraiding them for their
cowardice. He was about to order them down again when a diversion
occurred.

A door slammed below, a wheezing cough was heard, and Captain
Barker's head appeared at the top of the ladder.

"Which of you is the French captain?"

M. de la Pailletine lifted his hat.

"H'mph!"

He stepped up on deck and the French officers drew back in sheer
amazement. They looked at this man who had defied them for pretty
near an hour. They had expected to see a giant. Instead they saw a
tiny man, hump-backed, wry-necked, pale of face, with a twisted
smile, and glaring green eyes, that surveyed them with a malicious
twinkle. His wig was off, and his bandaged scalp, as well as his
face, was smeared black with powder; and it appeared that he could
not even walk like other men, for he moved across the deck with a
gait that was something between a trot and a shamble and
indescribably ludicrous.

Yet all this abated his dignity no whit. He trotted straight up to
M. de la Pailletine (whose astonishment mastered his manners for the
moment, so that he stared and drew back), and working his jaw, as a
man who has to swallow a bitter pill which sticks in his mouth, he
held out his sword without ceremony.

"Here you are," he said: "I've done with it; can't waste words."

"Sir," the Commodore answered, bowing, "believe me, I receive it with
little gratification. The victory is ours, no doubt; but the honour
of it you have wrested from us. Sir, I am a Frenchman; but I am a
sailor, too; and my heart swells over such a feat as yours.
Suffe