The evening was clear and serene. Mr. Trent, who occupied the position of sailing-master on board the Richard, immediately sprang into another of the ship’s boats, with a few armed men, and pursued the deserters. At the same time several cannon-shot were unavailingly thrown at them. A fog came on, and the pursuing boat was lost in the darkness. The deserters reached the shore and escaped. The fog continued, a genuine English fog, until noon of the next day. The boats sent to capture the brig were successful. The crews under the command of the lieutenant took possession of the prize. The Cerf was sent to reconnoitre the coast, and to endeavor to recover the two lost boats, the barge and the boat sent in pursuit of it. Approaching near the shore, the Cerf, to avoid detection, raised English colors. Mr. Trent, catching sight of the hostile flag, fearing capture, ran his boat ashore, where he and his crew were made prisoners. They were thrown into a wretched dungeon, where the unhappy Mr. Trent lingered until death came to his relief. Thus the Richard lost two important boats. In the afternoon, Pierre Landais came on board the Richard, and, even assuming an arrogant air of superiority, affirmed, in a very insulting manner, that Captain Jones had lost two boats and their crews from his folly in sending boats to capture a brig. He erroneously supposed that the lost boats were the two which had first been sent out; whereas they had been entirely successful, and had triumphantly accomplished their mission. Captain Jones listened calmly to his impertinent tirade, and then, with the courtesy of a true gentleman, replied: “It is not true,” Captain Landais, “that the boats which are lost, are the two which were sent to capture the brig.” The irate Frenchman, almost insane with passion, whirled upon his heel, and exclaimed, to an officer who accompanied him, “He tells me _I lie_.” The gestures of Landais were as rude and insulting as his language. Lieutenants Weibert and Chamillard endeavored to soothe the unreasonably angry man. But all was in vain. He raved like a maniac. Through all this scene, so disgraceful to the Frenchman, Captain Jones maintained a tranquil spirit. The conduct of Landais was so violent and so utterly unreasonable, that Captain Jones charitably excused him, on the supposition that there was a vein of insanity in his nature. The Cerf was utterly lost in the fog. The next night a violent storm arose, and the cutter, finding itself hopelessly separated from the squadron, returned to France. The privateer Granville, which mounted fourteen guns, having secured a prize, hastened with it back to a French port. The moderation displayed by Captain Jones under annoyances sufficient to drive most men mad, is worthy of all praise. In his journal for the king he wrote: