"God forbid! Except it be with shot and these," said the old man,
lifting an enormous cutlass, ground to a razor edge, which he had
specially made for his own personal use in battle. "No, no; we 've got
to fight him till he 's so damaged that he can't get at the rest. Do
you see, sir, how the brig lags behind them?" he went on, pointing out
toward the slowly escaping squadron. "The boy's got her luffed up so
she makes no headway at all!"

"I know it. I have signalled to him twice to close with the rest--he
can sail two feet to their one; but it is no use,--he pays no
attention. He should n't have been given so responsible a command
until he learned to obey orders," said Seymour, frowning.

"Let the boy alone, Master John; he 'll do all right," said Bentley;
"he's the makings of a good sailorman and a fine officer in him. I 've
watched him."

"Ha! there goes a shot from the liner," cried Seymour, as a puff of
smoke broke out from the lee side followed by the dull boom of a cannon
over the water, and then the flags rippled bravely out from the
mastheads. "Well, we did not need that sort of an introduction. Aft
there!" cried the captain, with his powerful voice.

"Sir."

"Show a British flag at the gaff. That will puzzle him for a while
longer. Well, old friend, I must go aft. It's likely we won't both of
us come out of this little affair alive, so good-by, and God bless you.
You 've been a good friend to me, Bentley, ever since I was a child,
and I doubt I 've requited you ill enough," he said, reaching forth his
hand. The old sailor shifted his cutlass into his left hand, took off
his hat, and grasped Seymour's hand with his own mighty palm.

"Ay, ever since you were a boy; and a properer sailor and a better
officer don't walk the deck, if I do say it myself, as I 've had a hand
in the making of you. But what you say is true, sir: we 'll probably
most all of us go to Davy Jones' locker this trip; but we could n't go
in a better way, and we won't go alone. God Almighty bless you, sir!
I--" said the old seaman, breaking off suddenly and looking wistfully
at the young man he loved, who, understanding it all, returned his
gaze, wrung his hand, and then turned and sprang aft without another
word.

The ships were rapidly closing, when Seymour's keen eye detected a dash
of color and a bit of fluttering drapery on the poop of the
line-of-battle ship. Wondering, he examined it through his glass.

"Why! '