other. You mind
how they used to give us the slip in the West Ingies. They'll be trying
on the same game now, depend on't."

"But when they do begin, they don't fight badly, you'll allow," observed
Paul Pringle.

"Maybe; but while they can lift their heels, they'll run," stoutly
maintained Abel.

In this instance the stranger seemed determined to contradict his
assertion, for at that very moment she was seen to haul up her foresail,
while the topgallant-sails were lowered on the caps, where they hung
swelling out and fluttering in the breeze; at the same time the flag of
republican France was run up at the peak, and a shot of defiance was
fired from one of her after-guns.

The British seamen, led by Paul Pringle, replied to it with a hearty
cheer, which, although it could not reach the Frenchmen's ears, served
to warm up their own hearts for the fight. Although the crew had not
served long together, each man knew his proper station; and there each
man now stood bold and fearless, prepared for the contest.

Captain Garland, with Mr Brine near him, walked the quarterdeck, with
telescope in hand, watching each movement of the enemy. The marines,
commanded by their lieutenant, stood drawn up with muskets, ready to
open fire as soon as they could get within range. Added to them were a
party of small-arm men prepared for the same object, or ready to board
if required, while others were stationed there to fight the quarterdeck
guns, or to attend the braces. Here, also, were grouped the mates and
midshipmen, not wanted elsewhere, ready to be despatched on any duty
which might be required of them. On the maindeck the crew of each gun,
with handkerchiefs round their heads, and stripped to the waist,
clustered round it, the locks fixed in readiness, and the lanyards
coiled around them, the tackles laid along the decks, the captains with
their priming-boxes buckled on, the officers with their swords on,
standing by their proper divisions; while in long rows were the
round-shot and wads, with grape and canister; and at intervals sat the
ship's boys,--powder-monkeys they were often called,--each on his proper
tub full of powder, which he had brought up from the magazine below.
Here in the depths of the ship was the gunner, the presiding genius of
destruction, ready to serve out the further supply of powder which might
be required, as the boys came tripping down nimbly to receive it, with
no more concern than if they had