A little brandy and biscuit refreshed both our hero and his follower. The night continued dark and the breeze very fresh, shifting as they cleared the outward harbour, blowing partly along the coast. The Vengeance was one of the fastest and handsomest privateer luggers out of a French port. She was above one hundred and sixty tons, and remarkably well provided with every requisite. Bill taking the tiller, our hero proceeded with a lighted lantern to explore the cabin. He discovered the late skipper’s stock of garments, and a locker full of pistols; but no store anywhere in the cabin of powder and ball. Returning upon deck, he found Bill consoling himself with a large lump of salt beef and a bottle of wine. “She’s a very fine craft, sir,” said Saunders, “and slips through the water under her fore-lug, though only half hoisted, like a witch. It was nearly up with us, sir, only for the knife.” “In truth it was, Bill! Such events should teach us never to despair, and that there is a Providence always watching over us. Now if we cannot make out the Diamond we must make a run across the Channel. Rouse up those two fellows in the fore cuddy to help us to make sail, hunger will freshen them up if they should turn sulky.” “What’s that smoke?” continued our hero, rather startled at seeing a wreath of smoke issuing from the fore cuddy; “run forward, Bill, and see what those fellows are about, they cannot have been so mad as to fire the craft!” Saunders rushed forward, and as he did so the two Frenchmen staggered up on deck, and seeing Bill alone threw their arms round his neck, strove to drag him down, and to stick him with their open knives; smoke and flame at the same time bursting up through the hatch. Bill shook off his two opponents as a mastiff would a lapdog, and with a terrible blow with his clenched fist, sent one sprawling against the windlass. Lieutenant Thornton had rushed to his assistance, but Bill wanted no help, for his other assailant fled to the bows with savage oaths, exulting that they had fired the vessel. “Did you think,” he fiercely exclaimed, as our hero came up, “that you were going to have the Vengeance for a prize? We are all sworn to sink or fire her.” “Then blow me,” said Bill Saunders, when the Lieutenant told him what the man had said, “if you shall either sink or be burned in her,” and seizing the Frenchman in his terrible grasp before our hero could prevent him, he hurled him over the bows. Despite their imminent danger, the Lieutenant ran aft and threw the drowning wretch a rope; he made an effort to grasp it, failed, and sank with a despairing cry. Thus the wretch who did not fear to meet death by fire, shrieked in despair in meeting his doom by water. “Haul aft the sheet, Bill!” shouted our hero; “it’s quite in vain to think of extinguishing this fire; we must run her ashore round yonder headland. Providentially the wind permits us to make the land without a tack.”