IV.—The Galleys.

When the frigate failed to answer his salute, M. de la Pailletine jumped to a fresh conclusion.

"Mordieu!" he cried, "here is another English captain who, like our friend Salt, is weary of carrying his Sovereign's colours. He doesn't mean to strike a blow. A minute and we shall see his flag hauled down."

But the minute passed, and another, and yet a third, and the English flag still flew.

By this time they were within musket-shot. One by one the four guns had spoken from the galley's prow and still there was no answer. On the brink of the tragedy there was silence for an instant. Then a few of the French musketeers seemed to find this intolerable and fired without receiving the order. Followed a silence again, and still the Merry Maid came on as if to impale herself on the galley's beak.

And then, suddenly, when in five minutes the vessels must have collided, round flew the frigate's wheel. For a minute and a half she fetched up as if awaking to the consequences of her folly; shuddered and shook against the wind; and, as her sails filled again, fetched away on the westerly tack for her life.

For a full two minutes the French were taken aback.

"Fools, fools!" shouted M. de la Pailletine, beside himself with joy.

The order flew for the slaves on the larboard benches to hold water for a minute and the galley's head came round. Nothing gives more spirit than a flying enemy. From mouth to mouth ran the whisper that the English were showing their heels; and in a moment these poor devils, who owed all their misery to France, were pulling like madmen. Jeers rose from the deck.

"If Monsieur the Englishman does not strike within two minutes, down he goes to the bottom."

"The idiot, to expose his stern!"

"On the whole, it is just as well that La Merveille is so far behind. We shall have all the glory to ourselves—eh, my children?"

On board the frigate Captain Barker said four words only:

"Take the wheel, Jemmy."

Captain Runacles stepped to it and the steersman gave place.

In truth the hunchback, though this was his first acquaintance with a galley, knew well enough that she would strike for the frigate's stern as the weakest point. This was precisely what he wished her to do.

Captain Runacles stood with his hand on the wheel and waited, glancing back over his shoulder.

Captain Barker stood by the taffrail with one eye upon the galley and his face turned in profile to his friend. His right hand was lifted.

The Commodore had made all his dispositions. The galley was to plunge her beak straight into the Merry Maid's stern, and its crew, after one discharge of cannon to clear the frigate's poop, were to board at once. The men stood ready with their hatchets and cutlasses and set up a wild yell as they drove straight for her. From below the slaves echoed it with a melancholy wail.

On they tore. As they yelled again, L'Heureuse's beak was but thirty yards from her prey. A few more leaps and it would strike.

"One—two—"

The little man looked back in their faces and smiled.

"Three—four—five—"

He dropped his hand. Quick as lightning Captain Jerry spun the wheel round. The stern swung sharply off, her sea-way gauged to a nicety.

The next moment the galley flew past. Her beak, missing the stern, rushed on, tearing great splinters out of the Merry Maid's flank. Her starboard oars snapped like matchwood, hurling the slaves backwards on their benches and killing a dozen on the spot. Then she brought up, helplessly disabled, right under the frigate's side.

And then at length the English cheer rang forth. In an instant the grappling-irons were out and the frigate held her foe, clasped, strained close against her ribs, close under her depressed guns.

And at length, too, with a blinding flash and a roar, those English guns spoke. A minute had done it all. Sixty seconds before the gallant vessel had lain apparently at the Frenchman's mercy. Now the Frenchman was fastened inextricably, while the crowd upon deck stood as much exposed as if the galley were a raft.

Down swept the grape-shot, tearing ghastly passages through them. They were near enough to be scorched by the flame of it. Down and across it rent them, as they crouched and fought with each other to get away and hide. There was no hiding. Before the breath of it they went down in rows, strewing the deck horribly, mangled, riddled, blown in miserable pieces.

In a trice, too, the English masts and rigging were swarming with musketeers and sailors who poured hand-grenades among them like hail, scattering wounds and death. The Frenchmen no longer thought of attacking. Such was the panic among officers as well as common men that they were incapable even of resistance. Scores who were neither killed nor wounded lay flat on their faces, counterfeiting death and hoping to find safety.

This carnage lasted, perhaps, for less than five minutes. L'Heureuse's consort was still near upon a league behind, and the other four galleys were still busily chasing the merchantmen.

Captain Barker looked and was well content. But he had much work still before him, and to do it properly he must husband his ammunition.

He gave the order to board. Forty or fifty men dropped over the Merry Maid's side, cutlass in mouth, and rushed along the galley's deck, hewing down all who ventured to oppose them and sparing only the slaves, who made no resistance. At last, and merely by the weight of numbers, they were driven back. But this did the Frenchmen no good. Instantly the frigate opened fire again and murdered them by scores.

It was in this extremity that M. de la Pailletine cast his eyes around and found himself forced to do what Captain Barker from the first had meant him to do. The four galleys that had started after the convoy were by this time sweeping along on the full tide of success. In another five minutes the pathway to the Thames would be blocked and all the merchant vessels at their mercy.

M. de la Pailletine hoisted the flag of distress. He called them to his help.

A wild hurrah broke out from the crew of the frigate. The order meant their destruction: for how could the Merry Maid contend against six galleys? Yet they cheered, for they had guessed what their captain had in his mind. And the little man's greenish eyes sparkled as he heard.

"Good boys!" he said briefly, turning to his friend. "The convoy is saved, my lad: and O! but Jemmy, you did it prettily!"