"We were soon within gun-shot, and they turned their heads toward us and blazed away: very pretty shot they fired, for they cut away three of our starboard oars before we were near enough to return the fire with our small gun. However, the second pinnace and cutters came up and shared the shot with us; and at last the old fat launch came grunting along, for all the world like an old board, pitching into them round and grape. Now the first lieutenant was in the launch, and, of course, commanded, and he ordered the boats to separate more, which was very right, as it divided the shot; and then he passed the word that when he sounded the bugle we were all to pull to the headmost gun-boat and board her. D'ye understand, messmate?" "Perfectly," replied Ben, taking his pipe out to reply. "Well, then, just hand me the pot." My father drained it this time, and told me to go for another. "Then I shall lose the story," replied I. "No, boy, you won't," replied Ben; "I'll answer for it your father will heave-to till you come back." "So I will, Jack," replied my father. And having with every expedition executed my task, my father then continued: "Well, there we all were, waiting for the bugle, each boat creeping on a little every moment, so as to have a fair start, as they do in a race; when at last the signal was given, and away we all went like smoke, with our oars bending double. The first pinnace reached the gun-boat first; then the cutters banged alongside of her--all three of us to windward--while the second pinnace and launch took her to leeward. There's not much climbing in getting on board of a gun-boat; indeed, we were at it before we were out of the boat, for the Frenchmen had pikes as long as the spanker-boom; but we soon got inside of their points, and came to close work. They stood a good tussle, I will say that, and so they always do. We may laugh at 'em, and call 'em Johnny Crapows, but they are a right brave nation, if they aren't good seamen; but that I reckon's the fault of their lingo, for it's too noisy to carry on duty well with, and so they never will be sailors till they larn English." "I never heard them carry on duty in French," said Ben; "it quite beats my comprehension how they can do it at all." "Well, I have," replied my father; "and every word they use is as long as the maintop bowling, and the mast is over the side before they can get them out. Why, would you believe it? I once asked one of those fellows what he called the foremast in his language, and what d'ye think he said? Why, I'm blowed if he didn't call it a _'Mar-darty-marng'_ (and that's the only bit of French I know); but how is it possible to work a ship in such gibberish?" "Quite unpossible," replied Ben. "Well, as I've yawed a little out of my course, suppose we have another swig before I takes a fresh departure?" After they had both drunk, my father proceeded: