eplied, "leastways if she isn't too big a craft for us
altogether."

The evening was coming in, the town of Yarmouth faintly visible
through the haze, when suddenly the crew of the _Ouseburn Lassie_
became aware of a big vessel in the offing.

"She's giving chase, by thunder!" cried the skipper, after he had
taken a long look through the glass; and all was excitement on board
the brig. Anxiously all hands watched the stranger, and at last the
shout went up, "She's a Frenchy!"

"Aye, and a big 'un at that," somebody added.

Hastily the preparations were made to receive her, though the captain
shook his head even as he gave his orders.

"It's no go," he whispered to George. "We've got these four small
guns, but what's the good? We've nobody to man 'em; only a couple on
'em, leastways. And the Frenchman's a monster."

"We'll show them a bit of fight all the same," George put in eagerly.
The old salt shook his head again.

Quickly the big vessel overhauled the collier brig, and signals were
made to pull down her flag, whereupon the Englishman grunted.

Within a minute a puff was seen, and a round shot whizzed close past
the _Ouseburn Lassie's_ bows.

"Give them a reply!" George urged in great excitement.

"Wait a bit, my lad," and the skipper bided his time.

"Now!" came the order at length, and a couple of eight-pound balls
flew straight to the Frenchman.

"Well hit!" shouted the Englishmen, as a shower of splinters was seen
to fly upwards from the enemy's deck.

"It's enough to show 'em we've got mettle in us," growled the old
captain, "and that's all we can say."

His words were justified, for the next moment there came another
flash, and with a crash the brig's mast went by the board.

"Done for!" groaned the skipper. "We shall see the inside of a French
prison, I reckon."

The enemy's long boat put out with a crew four times that of the brig.
Within a quarter of an hour the Englishmen had all been transferred to
the _Louis Treize_, and an officer and half a dozen men left in charge
of the prize. The Frenchman at once set a course for Dunkirk, and,
with a spanking breeze behind her, she made the port in fifteen hours.
The noon of the next day saw George Fairburn and his companions
clapped into a French prison.

"A bonny come off," the old skipper grumbled, "but we shall ha' to
make the best on it."

It will not be forgotten that the war just begun was, to put it
bluntly, a war to determine which