ker 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 debris
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, whi