frigate,
riding the waves in gallant style, with the wind upon her beam, and
travelling two feet for every one the close-hauled schooner could
accomplish. If the latter continued her present course, in another
half-league she would be under the port-holes of the frigate.

The other enemy, though further off, was far more difficult to
escape. This was a gun-brig, not so very much bigger than La Liberte
herself--for gun-brigs in those days were very small craft--and for that
very reason more dangerous. She bore about two points east of north from
the greatly persecuted Charron, and was holding on steadily under easy
sail, neither gaining much upon the chase nor losing.

"Carry on as we are for about ten minutes," said Charron to his mate,
Sam Polwhele; "that will give us period to eat our pork. Come, then, my
good friend, let us do it."

Polwhele--as he was called to make believe that he and other hands were
Cornishmen, whereas they were Yankees of the sharpest order, owing no
allegiance and unhappily no good-will to their grandmother--this man,
whose true name was Perkins, gave the needful orders, and followed down.
Charron could talk, like many Frenchmen, quite as fast with his mouth
full as empty, and he had a man to talk to who did not require anything
to be said twice to him.

"No fear of me!" was all he said. "You keep out of sight, because of
your twang. I'll teach them a little good English--better than ever came
out of Cornwall. The best of all English is not to say too much."

The captain and his mate enjoyed their supper, while Carne in the
distance bore the pangs of a malady called bulimus, that is to say, a
giant's ravening for victuals, without a babe's power of receiving them.
For he was turning the corner of his sickness now, but prostrate and
cold as a fallen stalactite.

"Aha! We have done well. We have warmed our wits up. One glass of what
you call the grog; and then we will play a pleasant game with those
Englishmen!" Carne heard him say it, and in his heart hoped that the
English would pitch him overboard.

It was high time for those two to finish their supper. The schooner
had no wheel, but steered--as light craft did then, and long
afterwards--with a bulky ash tiller, having iron eyes for lashing it in
heavy weather. Three strong men stood by it now, obedient, yet muttering
to one another, for another cable's length would bring them into danger
of being run down by the frigate.

"All clear