was very light. Hardly a ripple
showed itself upon the clear blue water, but the sails blew gently out
as the breeze came over the wooded banks. The Frenchman had gone about
also, and both ships were now heading slowly for the sea under
fore-and-aft canvas, the _Gloire_ a hundred yards in advance.
She luffed up to cross the _Leda's_ bows, but the British ship came
round also, and the two rippled slowly on in such a silence that the
ringing of the ramrods as the French marines drove home their charges
clanged quite loudly upon the ear.

"Not much sea-room, Mr. Wharton," remarked the captain.

"I have fought actions in less, sir."

"We must keep our distance and trust to our gunnery. She is very
heavily manned, and if she got alongside we might find ourselves in
trouble."

"I see the shakoes of soldiers aboard other."

"Two companies of light infantry from Martinique. Now we have her!
Hard-a-port, and let her have it as we cross her stern!"

The keen eye of the little commander had seen the surface ripple, which
told of a passing breeze. He had used it to dart across the big
Frenchman and to rake her with every gun as he passed. But, once past
her, the _Leda_ had to come back into the wind to keep out of shoal
water. The manoeuvre brought her on to the starboard side of the
Frenchman, and the trim little frigate seemed to heel right over under
the crashing broadside which burst from the gaping ports. A moment
later her topmen were swarming aloft to set her top-sails and royals,
and she strove to cross the _Gloire's_ bows and rake her again. The
French captain, however, brought his frigate's head round, and the two
rode side by side within easy pistol-shot, pouring broadsides into each
other in one of those murderous duels which, could they all be recorded,
would mottle our charts with blood.

In that heavy tropical air, with so faint a breeze, the smoke formed a
thick bank round the two vessels, from which the topmasts only
protruded. Neither could see anything of its enemy save the throbs of
fire in the darkness, and the guns were sponged and trained and fired
into a dense wall of vapour. On the poop and the forecastle the
marines, in two little red lines, were pouring in their volleys, but
neither they nor the seamen-gunners could see what effect their fire was
having. Nor, indeed, could they tell how far they were suffering
themselves, for, standing at a gun, one could but hazily see that upon
th