He was taken by surprise, but what then? Snatching up any weapons that came handy, the Frenchmen came pouring out of the hatchways and from all quarters of the deck, and, forming a little knot, endeavored to stem the rush of the boarders. They fought, as Frenchmen always fight, gallantly and with fierce courage; but a boarding party of English seamen is not easily checked. Jack at the head of a dozen men had already driven a group of the enemy from the fore deck into the foc’s’le when, glancing aft, he saw that Babbage and a small band were in desperate straits. Sword in one hand, pistol in the other, the French captain was pressing them hard at the head of twenty well-armed marines and three of his officers. The remainder of Jack’s party had scattered in pursuit of the enemy on the lower deck; and a hand-to-hand fight was raging near the armory, from which the watch below were hastily equipping themselves. It was impossible for Jack to collect his men; yet if Babbage and his gallant band were overcome all would be over. "You four, watch the foc’s’le!" he shouted. "Come on, you others! Babbage ahoy!" With a shout he dashed aft, a dozen men bellowing as they sprang after him. Flash went a pistol; the clashing of cutlasses mingled with the various cries of the men; and Jack, cleaving his way through the press toward the old bo’sun’s side, found himself face to face with the French captain. He had but just time to parry a shrewd thrust of the Frenchman’s sword when a blow from a French sailor’s pike, which must have killed him outright had it not been partly diverted by Babbage, fell obliquely upon his head with such force that he stumbled, staggered, and dropped senseless to the deck. His last conscious moment was filled with the din of fighting and the roar of his men. "Mr. Babbage!" "Wot?" "I axe your pardon, true." "Wot for?" "For calling of you Artichokes, Sparrow-grass, Turnip-tops, and Cabbage. Wi’ young Mr. Hardy a-lying here with all his senses knocked out of him, I couldn’t abear to think as how I hurt your feelings, Mr. Babbage. I axe your pardon." "Granted, Turley, granted, and more to foller," said Babbage, holding out a horny hand, which Turley grasped in one equally hard. Each man looked at the other, so long that they did not perceive that Jack’s eyes were open, and that he was smiling. "Oh, you solemn old donkeys!" he exclaimed. "You know you’ve been friends at heart all along." They looked sheepish, like boys detected in something unboyish. "Ah, sir," said Babbage, "brother Sol used to say ’tis not actions wot matter, ’tis feelings." "Brother Sol was wrong, then. I shouldn’t be feeling so dizzy but for the action of some Frenchman who got a cut at me. What’s happened, Babbage?" "The ship’s ourn, sir, and we’re making for Portsmouth." "Hurray! Tell me about it!"