hurled no very
complimentary epithets on the enemy.

"The time will come when we get up to you, Monsieur, and then we'll give
it you, won't we?" they exclaimed, shaking their lists at the enemy.

Several times the French came down in the same style, as Paul Pringle
remarked, "like so many dancing-masters skipping along, and then
whisking round and scampering off again."

Words will not describe the utter contempt and hatred the British tars
felt in consequence of this for their enemies. Had the French mustered
twice their numbers, and could they have got fairly alongside of them,
yardarm to yardarm, they supposed that they could have thrashed them,
and probably would have done so.

At last Admiral Rodney himself, in the hope of deceiving the enemy, made
the signal for the fleet to bear away under all sail. The manoeuvre had
the desired effect, making the French fancy that the English had taken
to flight; and now growing bold, like yelping hounds, they came after
them in full cry. The English captains guessed what was expected of
them, and did their best to impede the progress of their ships, so as to
let the enemy gain as much as possible on them. On the Frenchmen boldly
came, till their van was nearly abreast of the centre of the English,
who had luffed up till they had almost brought the fleet again on a
bowline.

Now, to their great satisfaction, there was a shift of wind, which gave
them the weather-gage. That was all Admiral Rodney wanted, and once
more the hearts of the British seamen beat proudly with the anticipation
of battle and victory.

The signal was made to engage. The British ships bore down on the
enemy. It seemed no longer possible that he would decline to fight. On
board the _Terrible_ all stood ready at their guns, eyeing the foe. Sam
Smatch had been despatched with his little charge into the hold, and
ordered, unless he would incur the most dreadful pains and penalties,
not to return on deck.

Sam grinned on receiving the order. He had not the slightest intention
of infringing it. He was not a coward; but he was a philosopher. He
had had fighting enough in his day. He had lost a leg fighting, and
been otherwise sorely knocked about; and he had vowed, from that time
forward, never to fight if he could help it. He had no king nor
country, so to speak, to fight for; for though he had become a British
subject, he had not appreciated the privileges he had thereby gained;
and, at all