"Privateers," he growled--"old friends both. This'n's the _Cock-ot_. Happen you've heard tell of her. That'n's the _Cock-it_. Sister-ships. And 'ot and 'it they'll be afoor long if I can make em so." He spun the wheel discreetly. "At dawn I found em atween me and Newhaven. So I went about; I wasn't on the fightin lay--half my ship's company short, and this here in my pocket for Nelson." He tapped his breast. "Thought I'd run for Dover. I was hardly off on that tack when I found her"--with a backward jerk of his head--"athwart-hawse me." Kit turned and saw a third ship, very tall, a league in their wake. "Forty-four gun frigate," continued the old Commander. "Must ha given somebody the slip. But what she's doin here along o them two pints beats me." "They must have been waiting to escort the lugger," ventured the boy. "Happen so," said the other phlegmatically. "Well, they've got her now--the husk, that is: I've kep the kernel," tapping his breast-pocket once again. "I didn't want all three a-top o me at the first onset, so I cut the lugger adrift, and set her bowling, helm lashd. As I reckoned, the frigate stopped to pick her up. She won't be alongside for three hours yet.... As to them two, we've been dodging about all morning, but I reck'n we're about there now--just about. So-o-o!" There was a roar and a huge splash beneath the stern of the _Tremendous_. A cold avalanche sluiced the boy. He staggered blindly back, something crashing on the deck about him. "O!" he cried, and opened his eyes faintly, expecting to find himself smothered with blood. It was water, not blood, that was dripping from him. The boy looked up in fear. Old Ding-dong drenched too, the water trickling down his nose, still nursed his ship tender as a mother. There was not the ghost of a smile on his face, no curl of contempt about his mouth. Kit thanked him inwardly. After all the rough old fellow was a gentleman. "Trying the distance with a bow-chaser," said the old man imperturbably. "I'd have a lick back, only I can't spare no men for the deck carronades. All below with Lanyon." The tip of his tongue shot out, and made the journey of his lips, cat-like. From behind that grim and weathered visage peeped the child, arch, mischievous, infinitely cunning. "Master Mouche, he _reckons_ I'm going to cross his bows and rake him," he whispered. "He _reckons_ I'll keep my course to sarve his consort the same. He _reckons_ to come up under my starn and rake me fore and aft, while his consort wears ship and pounds me with her broadside. That's his little game. 'Tain't mine though, ye know, Mr. Caryll--'tain't mine." He rolled a blue eye on the boy; and in that eye, twinkling cunning, bubbled the delight of a child about to play a practical joke on an elder.