was
lying at anchor in a friendly port, and they were only looking at some
ship beating into harbor.

"That old rattle-trap of a gardy coaster works tolerably well, only
she's a month of Sundays swinging her head-yards, and getting her
fore-tack down," said one of the seamen.

"You may well say that," said another, "and the same of his main-yard
and main-tack, and jib-sheet to boot."

"Well, you can't blame him for not being in a hurry," said the
boatswain, "he knows what he'll get when he hooks on to the old
Albatross. When once we get fairly hold on him, I don't ask but half an
hour to do his business for him: fifteen minutes to knock away some of
his sticks, and send him off flanking, and fifteen minutes more to
secure the guns and clear the decks up; and by that time it will be
eight bells, and then we'll have our dinner and our grog, and be all
ready to make sail on our course again."

"There she goes again! helm's a-tiller, jib-sheet's a-rope, and round
she comes!"

"Ready about!" shouted Captain Williams, and the crew flew to their
stations.

Both vessels were now heading to the westward; the Venganza, by superior
sailing and frequent tacking, had gained considerably to windward; and
it was evident that she would soon be alongside, though to leeward. In
this situation of affairs, Captain Williams, seeing that flight was out
of the question, called all hands aft.

"Lie aft there all of you, hurry aft there, men, at once," repeated the
boatswain, adding, in a lower tone, "the old man's going to read us a
page out of Hamilton Moore."

The men being all assembled upon the quarter-deck, Captain Williams
advanced, and thus addressed them:

"Men, you see that fellow yonder that is following on after us, and know
what he wants. He sails rather better than we do, and I don't see how
we're going to get rid of him; and if we don't want to be plagued with
him any longer, why we must fight him, that's all. I don't suppose that
you will fight any the quicker or better for my making a speech to you,
but I want you should know which leg you stand upon. We are nothing but
a merchantman, and I don't suppose you are bound by the ship's articles
to fight unless you see fit, but whether we fight or not, our fate is
the same; if we are such d--d fools as to let that garlic-eating
scarecrow make a prize of us without firing a gun, we shall be sent to
the mines for life; but if we will only stand by each other, I'll be
bail