A Fighter from the Seas On a lovely morning in the early part of the eighteenth century two vessels might have been seen approaching each other at that point where the northern waters of the Mozambique Channel mingle with those of the Indian Ocean. The day was mild and the wind light and variable. The ships rolled lazily on the languid swell, and a couple of leagues to the south and east of them the low, green shores of Madagascar were dimly visible. As the vessels drew near to each other the smaller of the two, a large brig-sloop with raking masts and a narrow, speedy-looking hull, put down her helm, rounded into the wind, and ran the black flag up to her main peak. The other, a trim and sturdy ship-rigged craft, with something of a man-of-war look about her lofty spars and graceful lines, seemed little perturbed by this significant display of the pirate emblem. She hove to, however, and the two vessels lay rolling idly on the blue water a long musket-shot apart. Before the sloop had time for any further demonstration one of the ship’s quarter-boats was lowered and brought to the starboard gangway, and into her stepped a spare, dark, wiry-looking man of medium height, evidently the Captain. The boat shoved off and made for the sloop, the Captain steering, and the crew pulling with the long, regular stroke of man-of-war’s men. So far the ship had displayed no colors, and the peculiar nonchalance with which her crew had behaved towards the pirates excited the latter’s marked apprehension. Could she be a public ship in disguise? If so, then farewell to the buccaneer’s hopes of brave booty in the Indian seas, for the wind had fallen and the vessels were drifting nearer together. The dark man seized the life-lines as they were extended to him from the pirates’ gangway, and climbed up the ladder with catlike agility. “What ship is this?” he asked, curtly, ignoring the crew that pressed ominously about him, and addressing himself to a tall man of a quiet but commanding appearance who stepped forward to meet him. “This is the sloop _Hope_, sir, and I am her commander, Thomas Tew, at your service.” “And I am Captain Misson of the ship _Victoire_, lately of his French Majesty’s service, but now from the seas.” The expression “from the seas” at once allayed the fears of Tew’s pirates, for the buccaneers of that day thus characterized themselves in their answering hails. The crew went about their duty, and the two captains entered the cabin, where they began a friendly conversation, and informed each other of their respective histories.