Hastily the preparations were made to receive her, though the captain
shook his head even as he gave his orders.
"It's no go," he whispered to George. "We've got these four small
guns, but what's the good? We've nobody to man 'em; only a couple on
'em, leastways. And the Frenchman's a monster."
"We'll show them a bit of fight all the same," George put in eagerly.
The old salt shook his head again.
Quickly the big vessel overhauled the collier brig, and signals were
made to pull down her flag, whereupon the Englishman grunted.
Within a minute a puff was seen, and a round shot whizzed close past
the _Ouseburn Lassie's_ bows.
"Give them a reply!" George urged in great excitement.
"Wait a bit, my lad," and the skipper bided his time.
"Now!" came the order at length, and a couple of eight-pound balls
flew straight to the Frenchman.
"Well hit!" shouted the Englishmen, as a shower of splinters was seen
to fly upwards from the enemy's deck.
"It's enough to show 'em we've got mettle in us," growled the old
captain, "and that's all we can say."
His words were justified, for the next moment there came another
flash, and with a crash the brig's mast went by the board.
"Done for!" groaned the skipper. "We shall see the inside of a French
prison, I reckon.
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