to be a valuable
prize, laden with tea, spices, and cotton. She was manned by a small
crew and sent to port.

"Now off for other luck!" cried Jean Bart.

Luck was with him, too. In four months cruising in the English
Channel, near the Belgian coast, he captured six prizes; all without
any fighting. The Dutch trading vessels of those days must have been
without guns and poorly manned, for it should have been easy to stand
off a crew of but thirty-six, with only two cannon aboard. Jean
Bart--you may be sure--was well satisfied. He was now rich, quite
famous, and keen for further adventure.

So well did the owners of the privateer _King David_ think of him,
that they now put him in charge of a larger vessel named _La Royale_,
carrying about eighty men and ten guns.

"Go out and win!" cried the chief owner of this privateer. "Jean Bart,
you are followed by the best blood of France. Your men are all from
Dunkirk!"

And Jean Bart smiled.

"Watch me!" said he.

Cruising near the coast of Holland in company with a small French
gun-boat, he fell in with a man-of-war--the _Esperance_--carrying
twelve guns and about one hundred and twenty men.

"Now we'll have a real fight!" cried the youthful French commander as
he cleared decks for action. "Men, see to it that your swords are
sharpened for there may be some boarding!"

Then he signalled to the little French gun-boat to follow him and give
battle. This ally carried about a hundred men and six cannon.

"Poof! Poof!"

The heavy guns of the Dutchman were the first to speak and they barked
away like fat Newfoundland watch-dogs.

"Poof! Poof! B-o-o-m!"

Jean Bart reserved his fire until within about seventy-five yards and
then he gave the command,

"Fire away! Aim low! And try to hull her!"

A sheet of flame sprang from the ten guns of _La Royale_ and a
splitting of boards and crackling of splinters showed that the iron
missiles had punctured the stout sides of the _Esperance_.

"Pop! Pop! Crash!"

The other French vessel now threw her lead into the stern of the
defender of the flag of the States General and her mizzen-mast was
seen to rock like an unfastened May pole.

"Whow!"

The _Esperance_ was not slow in answering back and her twelve guns
spat like leopards in the brush. She filled away and bore towards the
land, but the French gun-boat saw this move and checkmated it.

Sailing across her bow, the Frenchman raked her fore and aft, while
the rub-a-dub