Longsword, as he realized that night was about to close in and rob them of their prey, looked hungrily over the lugger’s tarpaulin-covered guns. “A shot from one of those,” he said, “might bring her to.” “She is a French craft,” said Captain McHale, “and I dare not try it.” “Could ye not explain away the small matter of a broken spar?” suggested the crafty Longsword. “As you see, she flies no flag; ye might be mistaken about her being a French vessel, after all. She may be English, and as a French privateer it is your duty to your owners to examine her near at hand.” The skipper ran his fingers through his yellow hair and grinned. “Troth, then,” remarked he, “there is a good deal in what ye say, Mister O’Moore; and now that ye put it afore me I have a great mind to see what effect a ball would have on her. The Erin would catch her in the long run; but night is coming, and the English coast is too near at hand.” He gave orders to his mate, who at once stripped one of the forward guns. The powder and shot had just been brought upon deck when Ethan suddenly cried to McHale: “See, there! What vessel is that?” Upon the lee, a large ship was bearing down upon the Montespan and the pursuing lugger. All eyes upon the Erin had been centred upon the chase and had given no attention to anything else; consequently, the appearance of the ship was something like magic to the lugger’s crew. “She flies the British flag,” cried Longsword. “There’s ructions coming too, for she is stripping her decks for a fight.” A sudden rending roar came from the British ship’s bow, a red tongue of flame darted from a port and a haze of smoke curled upward. In answer the Montespan ran up the English flag; but Captain McHale cried bravely: “No sailing under false colors for the Erin. We sink or swim with our own colors at the peak.” The French flag went up to the lugger’s mainmast a moment later, and with a swing of the wheel McHale headed her toward the coast. “We’ll get shallow water further in,” said he, “and some ugly looking rocks. A vessel of her draft will not venture in after us.” But the frigate seemed to give her attention to the Montespan; the ensign did not appear to deceive her, for another shot rang out, and the French vessel’s fore topmast was carried away. Then another and another shot followed in quick succession; and the Montespan signaled her surrender, with her rudder shot away and a hole knocked in her hull just above the water line. “Good firing,” said Ethan, admiringly. Then he continued with a change of tone, “And again the dispatch is lost to me.” He was standing by the after rail and watching the beautiful handling of the frigate’s guns; as he spoke he saw a boat pull away from her to the Montespan; and then she turned her attention to the lugger. “Are we out of range?” asked the young American of the skipper. “We’ll know in a moment,” answered McHale, grimly.