trive to get them off as well as he could. He
was about to make a long speech, but a gun from the _Harpy_, which had
now come up within range, made him defer it till a more convenient
opportunity. At the same time the vessel in shore hoisted Spanish
colours, and fired a gun.

"By de powers, but we got in the middle of it," cried Mesty; "_Harpy_
tink us Spaniard. Now, my lads, get all gun ready, bring up powder and
shot. Massa, now us fire at Spaniard--Harpy not fire at us--no ab
English colours on board--dat all we must do."

The men set to with a will; the guns were all loaded, and were soon cast
loose and primed, during which operations it fell calm, and the sails of
all three vessels flapped against their masts. The _Harpy_ was then
about two miles from Jack's vessel, and the Spaniard about a mile from
him, with all her boats ahead of her, towing towards him; Mesty examined
the Spanish vessel.

"Dat man-o'-war, Massa Easy--what de debbil we do for colour? must hoist
someting."

Mesty ran down below; he recollected that there was a very gay
petticoat, which had been left by the old lady who was in the vessel
when they captured her. It was of green silk, with yellow and blue
flowers, but very faded, having probably been in the Don's family for a
century. Mesty had found it under the mattress of one of the beds, and
had put it into his bag, intending probably to cut it up into
waistcoats. He soon appeared with this under his arm, made it fast to
the peak halyards and hoisted it up.

"Dere, massa, dat do very well--dat what you call _all nation colour_.
Everybody strike him flag to dat--men nebber pull it down," said Mesty,
"anyhow. Now den, ab hoist colour, we fire away--mind you only fire one
gun at a time, and point um well, den ab time to load again."

"She's hoisted her colours, sir," said Sawbridge, on board of the
_Harpy_; "but they do not show out clear, and it's impossible to
distinguish them; but there's a gun."

"It's not at us, sir," said Gascoigne, the midshipman; "its at the
Spanish vessel--I saw the shot fall ahead of her."

"It must be a privateer," said Captain Wilson, "at all events, it is
very fortunate, for the corvette would otherwise have towed into
Carthagena. Another gun, round and grape, and well pointed too; she
carries heavy metal, that craft; she must be a Maltese privateer."

"That's as much as to say that she's a pirate," replied Sawbridge; "I
can make nothing of her col