The tide had run well out as the fleet approached Kirkcaldy. Some of the women of the town, at the first alarm of the coming of “the pirate,” ran to the parson for protection. In answer to their cries he picked up the armchair in his study, and with it ran down to the low-water mark on the beach. He was in a perspiration when he got there and very much out of breath, but as his flock gathered around him he plumped himself down in his chair, facing the sea, and appealed to Almighty God as follows: “Now, Lord, dinna ye think it is a shame for ye to send this vile pirate to rob our folk o’ Kirkcaldy? For ye ken they are puir enough already, and hae naething to spare. They are all fairly guid, and it wad be a pity to serve them in sic a wa’. The wa’ the wind blows, he’ll be here in a jiffy, and wha kens what he may do? He is nane too guid for onything. Muckle’s the mischief he has done already. Ony pocket gear they hae gathered thegither, he will gang wi’ the whole o’t, and maybe burn their houses, tak’ their cla’es, and strip them to their sarks! And wae’s me! Wha kens but the bluidy villain may tak’ their lives? The puir women are maist frightened out o’ their wuts, and the bairns skreeking after them. I canna tho’t it! I canna tho’t it! _I hae been long a faithfu’ servant to ye, Lord_; but gin ye dinna turn the wind about, and blow the scoundrel out o’ our gate, I’ll nae stir a foot, but just sit here until the tide comes in and drowns me. _Sae tak’ your wull o’t, Lord!_” While the parson prayed came one of the sudden squalls down from the mountains. The squalls are common enough at that season, but the parson’s flock, on seeing the bay flecked over with the white foam ripped by a contrary wind from the tiny waves, with one accord shouted that the parson’s prayer had been answered. The parson was so proud of his prayer that he wrote it out for his admirers, and so it has been preserved for the amusement of posterity. As the old parson told the Lord, “the pirate” would have been upon them all “in a jiffy”--had he not been delayed by the argument with his captains, he would have reached Leith before the wind came out of the west. It seems singular at the first look that Jones should have consulted the captains at all, but it must be told that he was obliged to do so because the jealous Landais had, before sailing, succeeded in getting the French minister to order such consultations when matters of great importance were in hand. The squadron was sailing under the American flag, but it had French orders. On leaving the Firth of Forth the French captains became mutinous through fear of the British fleet sure to be sent from the south when the tale of the attempt on Leith was told there. They gave the captain until the 22d to make sail for other waters, and threatened to leave him if he did not do so. But they thought better of it afterwards.