rt is unhurt, and that still
beats for you!"

Just then the first lieutenant was standing not far from Paul Pringle
when a shot struck him to the deck. Paul stooped to raise him.

"Let me remain here, my lads," he said in a low voice. "It's all over
with me; but stick to your guns. Tell the men never to give in."

These were his last words, for his life was ebbing fast away. Now it
was known that Captain Drury had taken command, and once more the
courage of the crew, which had begun to sink at the loss of their two
principal officers, revived as before. The Frenchmen must have been
severe sufferers by the fire of the _Hector_, and must have felt the
apparent hopelessness of compelling her to strike.

Suddenly there was a cry that the French frigates were ranging up
alongside, with the evident intention of boarding. Their decks had been
seen crowded with men, and there could be no doubt that they had troops
on board.

"Boarders, prepare to receive boarders!" shouted Captain Drury through
his speaking trumpet. Of course the most active and best men had been
told off for the service. Crash came the two ships of the enemy, one on
each quarter. Paul Pringle, with Abel Bush, were among the leading men
of the party, headed by the second lieutenant, while several of their
old shipmates were with them. The instant the Frenchmen's bows touched
the _Hector's_ sides, numbers of the enemy came swarming on board on the
upper deck and through the ports on the main deck. Paul and Abel and
their companions rushed aft, with cutlass in hand, to repel the
Frenchmen who were attacking on the starboard side. Pistols were
flashing, bullets whizzing, and swords were clashing, while a hot fire
of musketry was kept up from the enemy's poops, and the great guns which
could be brought to bear were playing away without cessation. There
seemed, indeed, every probability that numbers would gain the day. Paul
began to think so likewise. Still, amid the desperate fight, one idea
was uppermost in his mind. It was about little True Blue. It was the
dread, if the enemy gained the day, that he would be turned into a
little frog-eating Frenchman.

"Remember our own little True Blue, mates!" he shouted. "Whatever we
do, don't let the Crapauds have him. Huzza for our Billy! Huzza for
little True Blue!" and he and his old shipmates, making a fresh and
still more desperate onset against the enemy, cut them down right and
left, and dro