huge, sandy beard, a clear blue eye, and an honest smile on his lips,
and saying that he was a seaman every inch of him, he needs no further
description. Verner let it be known, among their new messmates, that
Pearce Ripley was only the boatswain's son; and hearing this, Bonham
took great care to recount to them his gallant act on the 1st of June,
and to speak otherwise in his praise. Dick forward did not fail to make
the young midshipman his theme, and there the fact of his parentage was
undoubtedly in his favour. "We shall be, no doubt, alongside an enemy
some day soon, and then will be seen what stuff the youngsters are made
of," was the remark of several on board. They were not wrong in their
prognostications. The Island of Desiderade, near Guadeloupe, was in
sight to windward. "A sail on the weather bow!" was shouted by the
look-out at the mast's head, always the keenest sighted of the seamen on
board in those days.

The frigate made all sail in pursuit of the stranger, a large schooner
under French colours. The chase stood into a bay defended by a fort,
where she was seen to anchor with springs to her cables. Along the
shore a body of troops were also observed to be posted. The drum beat
to quarters as the "Blanche" worked up towards the fort, when, the water
shoaling, she anchored and opened her fire in return for that which the
fort, the schooner, and the soldiers were pouring in on her. Captain
Faulkner's first object was to silence the fort. This was soon done.
The schooner, which it was clear was heavily armed, must be brought out.
The boats were called away, under command of the second lieutenant.
Pearce leaped into the one to which he belonged. A master's mate,
Fitzgibbon, had charge of her, and Dick Rogers formed one of her crew.
Harry Verner was in another. Away the boats dashed, at a rate boats
always do move pulled by British seamen when a prize is to be taken.
The Frenchmen worked their guns bravely. A shot disabled the leading
boat. Pearce, sitting by Fitzgibbon's side, heard a deep groan, and
before he could even look up the master's mate fell forward, shot
through the head. His boat took the lead. "Now's your time," cried
Dick Rogers; "we'll be the first aboard, lads." The crew were not slack
to follow the suggestion. In another moment they were up to the
schooner, and, leaping on her deck, led by Pearce, laid on them so
fiercely with their cutlasses that the Frenchmen, deserting