Chapter 4

ANOTHER FIGHT, AND ANOTHER PRIZE.

The weather had been clearing all day, and when, about six bells that afternoon, we made the high land of Portland, the sky was without a cloud, the atmosphere clear and bright, and the sun was shining as brilliantly as though it had been midsummer, quite taking the keen edge off the frosty air. There was not a vessel in sight in any direction, which was rather a relief to us; for, situated as we were then, it would have been difficult to say whether the sight of a friend or of an enemy would have excited the most uneasiness in our breasts. A friend would almost certainly have been a man-o'-war; and although our papers were nominally a protection of our crew against impressment, we were fully aware that, as a matter of fact, they were nothing of the sort, the captains of our men-o'-war impressing almost as freely from a privateer as from an ordinary merchantman. Now, our men were, so far as we had had an opportunity of proving them, first-rate fellows, with scarcely a single exception, we were therefore most anxious not to lose any of them; and were consequently the reverse of desirous to meet with one of our own ships of war. On the other hand, we were by this time so close in with the English coast that, if we happened to encounter an enemy, it would certainly be a prowling privateer--like ourselves--heavily enough armed and manned to admit of their venturing, without much risk, over to our side of the Channel, on the look-out for homeward-bound British ships. To encounter such a customer as this would mean plenty of hard knocks, without very much profit, and with just the chance of losing one or the other of our prizes. We were, therefore, heartily thankful to find a clear horizon all round us when the fog cleared away. We were destined, however, to have another bout with a Frenchman before long, as will presently appear.

We had made the high land of Portland about half an hour when the sounds of distant firing were faintly borne to our ears; and shortly afterwards two craft, a cutter and a brig--the latter evidently in chase of the former--hove into view, broad on our weather-bow. The firing was not very heavy, it is true, but it was briskly maintained; and as they came sweeping rapidly down toward us it became apparent that the two craft were exchanging shots from their bow and stern-chasers respectively. The cutter was flying the British ensign, while the brig sported the tricolour; and, the two vessels being dead before the wind, the brig carrying studding-sails on both sides, the Frenchman seemed to be getting rather the best of it, overhauling the cutter slowly but surely. As soon as this was seen, the _Dolphin_ hove-to and put ten more men on board the _Belle Jeannette_, with orders to me to close with the Indiaman, and to clear for action, both which orders I obeyed without loss of time. And, while doing so, the _Dolphin_ and ourselves hoisted British colours, as a hint to the brig that if she dared to meddle with us we were quite ready for her. The cutter and the brig happened to be steering a course that would bring them close aboard of our little squadron, and when the Frenchman saw the colour of our bunting he began at once to shorten sail by taking in his studding-sails, preparatory, as we supposed, to hauling his wind out of so perilous a neighbourhood.

But in supposing thus we were mistaken; the fellow evidently at once hit off our respective characters to a T; he saw that the lugger--under jury-masts and bearing other unmistakable signs of having been very recently in action--was a prize; no doubt judged the Indiaman to be a recapture; and--perhaps believing that, with these two prizes, the schooner would be very short-handed--quickly made up his mind that either of the three would be more valuable than the cutter to him. At all events he shortened sail in a most determined and workmanlike manner, threw open all his ports, and, slightly shifting his helm, made as though he would slip in between the _Dolphin_ and the Indiaman. Captain Winter, however, would not have it so; as the Frenchman luffed, the _Dolphin_ edged away, until both vessels were heading well in for the West Bay, athwart the Indiaman's hawse, and running upon lines so rapidly converging that, within ten minutes of the declaration of the Frenchman's intentions, the brig and the schooner were within biscuit- toss of each other. The brig mounted six guns of a side against the _Dolphin's_ five; but this disparity was altogether too trifling a matter for our skipper to take any notice of, and accordingly, when the two vessels had neared each other to within about twenty fathoms, the Frenchmen showing signs of an intention to run the schooner on board, Captain Winter poured in his starboard broadside, and at the same time edged away just sufficiently to keep a few fathoms of water between himself and the brig. The broadside was promptly returned, and in another minute the two vessels were at it, hammer and tongs, yard-arm to yard-arm, and running almost dead away before the wind.

Meanwhile, having sent a hand aloft to take a look round, and having thus ascertained that there was nothing else in sight to interfere with us, I came to the conclusion that the Indiaman might very well take care of herself for half an hour or so; and, accordingly, we in the lugger at once bore up to support the schooner. Up to the time of encountering the Frenchman we had been sailing about a quarter of a mile to leeward of the Indiaman, while the _Dolphin_ had been jogging along about the same distance to windward of the big ship; our positions, therefore, were such that we in the lugger had only to put up our helm a couple of spokes or so to enable us to converge upon the two combatants, which we