Part 66

"Sure enough," said he, scanning the white sails upon the horizon. "It's Talbot and we're in for a tight affair. All hands prepare for action!"

There was noise and confusion upon the deck of the privateer as the guns were sponged, charges were rammed home, and all prepared for battle. Meanwhile, the stranger came nearer, and rounding to within striking distance, crashed a broadside into the slumbering Dragon, who had not yet shown her fangs.

Crackle! Crackle! Boom!

The small arms from the Britisher began to spit at the advancing privateer, and seven of her fourteen guns rang out a welcome to the sailors of Rhode Island. The solid shot ploughed through the rigging, cutting ropes and spars with knife-like precision.

"Round her to on the port quarter!" shouted Captain Talbot, "and get near enough for boarding!"

But, as the Argo swung near her antagonist, the Dragon dropped away--keeping just at pistol-shot distance.

"Run her down!" yelled the stout Rhode Islander, as he saw this manoeuvre of his wily foe. Then he uttered an exclamation of disgust, for, as he spoke, a bullet struck his speaking trumpet; knocking it to the deck, and piercing it with a jagged hole.

"Never mind!" cried he, little disconcerted at the mishap. "Give it to her, boys!"

Then he again uttered an exclamation, for a bounding cannon ball--ricochetting from the deck--took off the end of his coat-tail.

A true incident vouched for by two historians.

"I'll settle with you for that," yelled the old sea-dog, leaping to a cannon, and, pointing it himself, he touched the fuse to the vent. A puff of smoke, a roar, and a ball ploughed into the mainmast of the rocking Dragon.

Talbot smiled with good humor.

"Play for that, my brave fellows," he called out, above the din of battle. "Once get the mainmast overside, and we can board her."

With a cheer, his sailors redoubled their efforts to sink the Dragon, and solid shot fairly rained into her hull, as the two antagonists bobbed around the rolling ocean in this death grapple. Thus they sparred and clashed for four and a half hours, when, with a great splitting of sails and wreck of rigging, the mainmast of the Dragon trembled, wavered, and fell to leeward with a sickening thud.

"She's ours!" yelled Captain Talbot, through his dented speaking trumpet.

Sure enough, the Dragon had had enough. Her wings had been clipped, and, in a moment more, a white flag flew from her rigging.

"The Argo is sinking! The Argo is sinking!" came a cry, at this moment.

"Inspect the sides of our sloop," cried Talbot.

This was done, immediately, and it was found that there were numerous shot-holes between wind and water, which were speedily plugged up. Then, bearing down upon the crippled Dragon, she was boarded; a prize-crew was put aboard; and the Argo steered for home, her men singing,

"Talk about your gay, old cocks, Yankee, Doodle, Dandy, 'Si' Talbot he can heave the blocks, And stick like pepp'mint candy.

"Yankee--Doodle--Shoot and kill, Yankee--Doodle--Dandy, Yankee--Doodle--Back an' fill, Yankee--Doodle--Dandy."

Silas Talbot, in fact, had done extremely well, but, not content with his laurels already won, he soon put out again upon the Argo, in company with another privateer from Providence, Rhode Island, called the Saratoga; which sailed under a Captain Munro. They were not off the coast more than two days when they came across the Dublin; a smart, English privateer-cutter of fourteen guns, coming out of Sandy Hook. Instead of running away, she ploughed onward, and cleared for action.

The Argo and the Saratoga ran in upon the windward quarter and banged away with audacity. The fight lasted for an hour. Then--as the Argo tacked in closer in order to grapple and board--the Saratoga was headed for the privateer. But--instead of coming in--she began to run off in the wind.

"Hard a-weather! Hard up there with the helm!" cried Captain Munro.

"It is hard up!" cried the steersman.

"You lie, you blackguard!" cried Munro. "She goes away lasking! Hard a-weather I say again!"

"It is hard a-weather, I say again, captain," cried the fellow at the tiller.

"Captain Talbot thinks that I am running away when I want to join him," cried Munro. "What the deuce is the matter anyway?"