near,
and the black-eyed skipper cried out,

"You fellers look out for ze _Alabama_. She take in much coal. Whew!
She take much of ze captured stuff ashore. Whew! She scrub ze deck.
Whew! She put ze sailors to ze business of sharpening ze cutlass and
ze dirk. Whew! You look out for ze great privateer! Whew!"

Captain Winslow only smiled.

"Zey have ze big feast," continued the Frenchman. "Zey dr-e-e-nk ze
wine. Zey stan' on ze chairs and zey say, 'We will seenk ze Yankee
dog.' Ta donc! Zey call you ze dog!"

And still Captain Winslow smiled. But, next day, his smile turned to
a frown.

It was Sunday, the nineteenth day of June. The weather was beautiful;
the atmosphere was somewhat hazy; the wind was light; and there was
little sea. At ten o'clock the _Kearsarge_ was drifting near a buoy
about three miles eastward from the entrance of Cherbourg break-water.
Her decks had been newly holy-stoned; the brass work had been cleaned;
the guns polished, and the crew had on their Sunday clothes. They had
been inspected, and dismissed--in order to attend divine service.

At 1.20 a cry rang out:

"She comes!"

The bell was tolling for prayers.

"The _Alabama_! The _Alabama_! She's moving, and heading straight for
us!"

All rushed to the deck; the drum beat to quarters. Captain Winslow
laid aside his prayer-book, seized his trumpet, ordered the boat
about, and headed seaward. The ship was cleared for action and the
battery was pivoted to starboard.

Yes, she was coming!

From the western entrance of the safe, little French seaport steamed
the long-bodied, low-hulled privateer: her rakish masts bending
beneath the spread of canvas: her tall funnel belching sepia smoke. A
French iron-clad frigate--the _Couronne_--accompanied her, flying the
pennant of the Commander-of-the-Port. In her wake plodded a tiny
fore-and-aft-rigged steamer-yacht: the _Deerhound_, showing the flag
of the Royal Mersey (British) Yacht Club. The frigate--having convoyed
the Confederate privateer to the limit of the French waters (three
marine miles from the coast)--put down her helm and ploughed back into
port. The steam yacht continued on, and remained near the scene of
action.

As the _Alabama_ had started upon her dash into the open, Captain
Semmes had mounted a gun-carriage, and had cried,

"Officers and Seamen of the _Alabama_:

"You have at length another opportunity of meeting the enemy--the
first that has been presented to you since