Part 50

Yet these same prisoners had little cause to complain of their treatment when they arrived at Brest; for they were landed at once, and the captain and officers were liberated on parole. The French also treated them very well and invited the valorous George Walker to many a repast, where they laughed at the narrow shave that he had had from death,--for they had left the Fleuron none too soon.

On the day following the landing, Captain Walker was seated in the office of a counting-house, near the dock-end, and was writing a letter to the captain of the Fleuron, requesting him to send him his letter-of-credit, which was in a tin box in a cabin of the French man-of-war, when a terrible Boom! sounded upon his ears.

A sailor came running past the open window.

"The Fleuron has blown up!" he cried. "The Fleuron is a total loss!"

Captain Walker dashed into the street; to the end of the quay; and there a sad spectacle greeted his eager gaze. Strewn about upon the surface of the water were broken spars; pieces of sail; and the débris of a once gallant man-of-war. The remnants of the Fleuron were burning brightly.

The captain of the French ship came running by. "Helas!" he wailed. "A careless gunner has destroyed my gallant vessel. Helas! Helas!"

It was too true. Four or five powder barrels had been left in the magazine for saluting purposes, and quite a little loose powder had been allowed to lie upon the floor. Some careless seamen had gone down into the hold with a decrepit, old lantern. The handle broke, the flame set fire to the loose powder,--and that was the end of the gallant ship Fleuron. She burned to the water's edge and then went down to the bottom with a dull, sizzling hiss; while the treasure also disappeared. Later on, divers secured a part of it, but much that was of value was never recovered.

Captain Walker did not long grieve over the loss of his letter-of-credit, left on board the ill-starred Fleuron, for he was exchanged, after a few weeks, and was sent back to England with his crew. This was in 1745. He lost no time in reporting to the owners of the Mars, and so well did they think of him, that in a short while they sent him upon another privateering venture aboard the Boscawen, which, as you remember, had run away from the Mars, after she had fallen in with the two French men-of-war. Now occurred his greatest sea-fight.

The Boscawen had been built in France and had been a prize, taken at sea. She mounted twenty-eight guns (nine-pounders), but Walker added two more, and shipped a crew of three hundred and fourteen men. Without waiting for the Mars, the stout sea-dog put out to sea on April 19th, 1745, steering for the shores of France where cruised the prize-laden clipper ships, and the unwelcome men-of-warsmen. The British privateersman cruised about for a whole month without any luck, and, falling in with the privateer Sheerness, joined with her in a little run in search of inoffensive merchantmen. At daybreak a cry came from the forward watch,--

"Sails ho! Sails ho! Off the starboard quarter! There're eight o' them an' heading no' east."

Both the privateers started in pursuit, but the Sheerness was left far astern, as the Boscawen was a speedy sailer. The latter drew near the eight scudding sail, which suddenly veered about and formed a line, awaiting an attack. The Sheerness was way astern. Would Captain Walker advance?

It was eight against one, and there was no certainty what was the armament of the vessels now standing in a row, all ready for action. The faces of the officers on the Boscawen showed anxiety and suspense, but there was no shadow of fear upon the countenance of Captain Walker, who now addressed them in the following words:

"Gentlemen, I hope that you do not think the number of prizes before us too many. Be assured, my good friends, that by their being armed, they have something on board of them that is worth defending. I take them to be merchantmen with letters of marque (privateers), and homeward bound. Without doubt we shall meet with some opposition, in which I know that you will exhibit your usual courage. We must conquer these superior numbers by superior skill. Be cool. Be careful that you aim correctly, for, as we shall be pressed on all sides, let every man do his best to engage the enemy that he sees before him.

"In a word, Gentlemen, if you will put full confidence in me for leading you on, I will pawn my life upon the fact that I will bring you off victorious."

"Hurray! Hurray for Walker!" came the reassuring response.

"Then go to your quarters, my hearties! Fight like Britishers of old, and all will be well!" cried the brave mariner.

Like a hornet among a group of snap-dragons, the Boscawen now sailed into the centre of the enemy's line.

"Do not fire until I give the word!" cried Captain Walker, as the salt spray kicked and splashed about the bow of the on-coming Boscawen. "Then hammer away like anvils on a sledge!"

Sixty men were ill on board the stout little English privateer, but all save three crawled on deck in order to render what assistance they could in pointing and handling the guns.

Now was a glorious fight.

Bang! Crash! Z-i-i-p!

The French privateers were hammering away as the Englishman approached and their balls cut and tore through the rigging, damaging the mizzen topsail, and splitting a topmast. Steering straight for the largest vessel, Walker waited until he was within close range and then gave the order:

"Fire, and hull her if you can."

Poof! Cr-a-a-sh!

A blinding broadside rolled from the port of the Boscawen, and the solid shot bit and tore the stranger like a terrier mouthing a rat.

The valiant little privateer was now in the midst of the enemy. Two were to right of her; two to the left of her; one across her bow; and one across her stern. Two of the eight decamped, at this juncture; making the odds six, instead of eight, to one.

"Pow! Pow! Cu-boom!"

The vessel astern was banging away like a Banshee, but a sudden crash from the stern guns so badly damaged her that she hauled off. It was now five to one.