, rowed
swiftly towards the rolling Frenchman. They approached to within
twenty yards. Then

_Crash! Crash! Rattle! Crash!_

A sheet of flame burst from her sides; muskets and pistols spoke;
cannon spat grape and cannister; the Englishmen were frightfully cut
up.

"On! On!" shouted young John Rogers--a brother of Woodes--as he waved
his cutlass aloft to enliven the sailors. But it was his last cry. A
bullet struck him in the forehead, and he fell into the sea without a
murmur.

_Crash! Crash!_

Again roared out a volley. Oars were splintered. One boat was pierced
below the water line. She sank, and her men floundered about upon the
surface of the oily sea.

"Bear off, and rescue our comrades!" cried the leaders of this futile
attack, and, as the French barque drifted away, the remaining boats
busied themselves with the swimming sailors. The assault had been a
complete failure.

"Curses upon the Frenchman!" cried Captain Rogers when he saw the
saucy fighter drawing off. "We'll go after her to-morrow, and catch
her, or my blood's not English. What say you, men?"

"Yes. After her and board her amid-ships!" cried all. "Run our own
vessel alongside."

"And that I will do," answered Rogers, watching the lumbering
merchantman through his glass. "She's entirely too well armed for a
trader."

When morning dawned, the Frenchman was still ploughing along the coast
in the light breeze, with all sail set. But there was not wind enough
to force her ahead of her pursuer. The _Duchess_ now returned from her
chase of the Lima boat, and, joining her _Duke_, bore in upon the able
fighter from the open sea.

"Egad! We'll have her yet," shouted Captain Rogers, rubbing his hands.

"She luffs!" cried a lieutenant. "She's coming to!"

Sure enough the Frenchman saw that resistance now was useless. She
staggered into the wind, and a white flag beckoned for a prize-crew to
come and take her.

"And," writes Captain Rogers, "I found that a Bishop who had been
aboard of her, had been put ashore, which gave me much grief. For I
always love to catch fat prelates, as they give up a stout sum as
their ransom. In truth they are nice pickings."

Things were going well with the wild rovers from Bristol. Plunder
there was aplenty and the holds of the _Duke_ and the _Duchess_ bulged
with treasure. Yet Woodes Rogers was not satisfied.

"On! On to Guayaquil!" cried he. "We'll capture this wealthy city;
demand a great ransom; and sail to