Our captain showed himself to be a tactician as well as a fighter. "If this be the Algerine," he said, "her speed will enable her to make off when she finds out who we are. It remains, therefore, to trick and entice her to us. See that all our ordnance is run in and the ports closed. Keep nearly all the men out of sight, and run the flag of Sicily up to the peak. And you, Master Bennet," he added, addressing our newly made master, "lay me the _Gannet_ close alongside the stranger and your duty will be done. Now, gentlemen, to your stations, and God save His Majesty King Charles!" The work of transforming the man-of-war into a seemingly peaceful merchantman was quickly performed, and long before the corsair (for such there was no doubt she was) came within range the _Gannet_ was floundering along with yards badly squared, for all the world like a helpless trader, her course having been previously altered as if she were intent on running away. But on board everything was different. At each of her guns on the starboard side were men lying prone on the deck, waiting for the signal to trice up the ports, run the guns out, and deliver a crushing broadside. Powder, shot, and buckets of water were placed close at hand, while boarding axes, pikes, cutlasses, muskets, and pistols were lying about ready to be seized when required. The men themselves were in a state of suppressed excitement, talking softly to one another, and with difficulty restraining themselves from taking a view of their enemy and thus exposing our strength. The officers, hidden under the break of the poop, had donned their buff coats, head- and back-plates, and plumed hats, and were as impatient as the men to get to quarters. My station, with young Drake, was on the gundeck, yet I could not resist the inclination of creeping aft and looking at the Algerine through one of our stern ports. She was now tearing along at a tremendous pace, barely a quarter of a mile astern. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and she was being propelled by oars as well as by sails; yet a stern chase is always a long one. Thinking us an easy prey, she made no hesitation in showing her true colours, while groups of dark-skinned men, the sweepings of the Barbary ports, clustered on her high foc’s’le, yelling and waving their arms in a truly terrifying manner. The sounds of the oars, the rattling of the chains of the miserable galley slaves, and the sharp crack of the whip of the merciless taskmaster could be distinctly heard, while ever and anon a gun would be fired, merely to impress upon us the fruitlessness of resistance. At length she drew up about fifty yards from our starboard quarter, and even at that short distance they did not scent danger, their eagerness blinding them to the fact that twenty-five closed ports separated them from a death-dealing hail of iron.