ith looks of alarm at their powerful enemy, "most of you
have sailed in the _Lily_ with me since she was first commissioned. You
know that I have never exposed your lives unnecessarily, and that we
have always succeeded in whatever we have undertaken. You have gained a
name for yourselves and our ship, and I hope you will not sully that
name by showing the white feather. Although yonder ship is twice as big
as we are, still we must try to beat her off, and it will not be my
fault if we don't."

The men cheered heartily, and went to their guns. Every preparation for
battle being made--to the surprise of her own crew, and much more so to
that of the Frenchman--the commandant ordered her to be hove-to.

"Don't fire a shot until I tell you, lads!" he cried out.

Many looked at the stranger with anxious eyes; the flag of France was
flying from her peak. Eighteen guns grinned out from her ports on
either side--twice the number of those carried by the _Lily_, and of a
far heavier calibre. As she got within range she opened fire, her shot
flying through the _Lily's_ sails, cutting her rigging and injuring
several of her spars, but her guns were so elevated that not a man was
hit on deck.

"Steady, lads! We must wait until she gets near enough to make every
one of our guns tell!" cried the commander.

Even when going into action a British seaman often indulges in jokes,
but on this occasion every man maintained a grim silence.

"Now, lads!" shouted the commander, "give it them!"

At the short distance the enemy now was from them the broadside told
with terrible effect, the shot crashing through her ports and sides,
while the shrieks and groans of the wounded were clearly distinguished
from the _Lily's_ deck.

The British crew, working with redoubled energy, hauled their guns in
and out, and fired with wonderful rapidity, truly tossing them about as
if they had been playthings. The French also fired, but far more
slowly, sending hardly one shot to the _Lily's_ two. The officers went
about the deck encouraging the men and laying hold of the tackles to
assist them in their labours. At any moment a well-directed broadside
from the frigate might leave the corvette a mere wreck on the ocean, or
send her to the bottom. Every man on board knew this; but while their
officers kept their flag flying at the peak, they were ready to work
their guns and struggle to the last.

An hour and a half had passed since the French