colors!" shouted the Captain of the _Justina_. "We're
done for!"

Down came the ensign of the United States, and the little schooner was
luffed so that she stood still. The _Alabama_ ranged up alongside, a
boat soon brought a crew of boarders, and, before many moments, she
was in the hands of Captain Raphael Semmes and his men.

That evening the _Alabama_ steamed southward, the crew of the
_Justina_ was on board, her rich cargo filled the hold, and a black
curl of smoke and hissing flames marked where the proud, little
merchantman had once bobbed upon the rolling water. Raphael Semmes was
happy, for his work of destroying the commerce of the United States
Navy had progressed far better than he had hoped.

[Illustration: RAPHAEL SEMMES.]

"Men!" cried he, "The cause of the Confederate States of America
was never brighter upon the ocean than now. Give three times three for
Jeff. Davis--his soldiers and his sailors!"

A rousing cheer rose above the waves, and the proud privateer bounded
onward upon her career of destruction and death. The _Alabama_ was in
the zenith of her power.

* * * * *

The scene now shifts to the harbor of Cherbourg, upon the western
coast of France. The _Alabama_ lay there,--safely swinging at her
anchor-chains within the break-water. She had come in to refit, for
her bottom was much befouled by a long cruise, which had been
successful. Built at Birkenhead, England, for the Confederate States
Government, she set sail in August, 1862; and had been down the coast
of North and South America; around the Cape of Good Hope to India, and
back to the shores of France. Sixty-six vessels had fallen into her
clutches, and of these fifty-two had been burned; ten had been
released on bond; one had been sold, and one set free. Truly she had
had a marvellous trip.

As she slumbered on--like a huge sea-turtle--a black cloud of smoke
appeared above the break-water, and a low-bodied United States cruiser
slowly steamed into the harbor. She nosed about, as if looking for
safe anchorage, and kept upon the opposite side of the little bay.

Immediately all hands clambered to the side of the Confederate
cruiser, and glasses were levelled at this vessel which carried the
flag of opposition.

"She's stronger than we are," said one of the crew.

Another grinned.

"Look at her eleven-pounders," said he. "I see her name, now. She's
the _Kearsarge_, and about our tonnage, but I re