Friendly port or not, it seemed very much as if the Britisher was making ready to give us a broadside without the courtesy of hailing. Nearer and nearer came the _Phoebe_, forging ahead slowly, and when she was less than a pistol shot distant her commander, Captain Hillyar, hailed, asking after Captain Porter's health as if the two were warm friends. [Illustration: NEARER AND NEARER CAME THE PHOEBE.] Our commander answered politely, and then warned the Britisher that he was coming too near. "If you foul us, sir," Captain Porter cried, "there will necessarily be much confusion, and I cannot be answerable for the consequences." "I certainly do not meditate making an attack, my dear sir," the Britisher replied with a bow; but there was that in his voice which caused me to believe he was not speaking the truth, and Master Hackett muttered:-- "He'll take us if he gets into position, an' now's the time when our captain should give him somethin' more'n soft talk. If I was in command of this 'ere frigate I'd sink him off-hand." At that moment the wind shifted, taking the _Phoebe_ suddenly aback, and her bow payed off directly upon the _Essex_. It was as if they were minded to board us, and Captain Porter must have believed that such was the case, for suddenly came the command to call away the boarders. "Now we're in for it, lad!" Master Hackett cried gleefully as he ran to his station, I following close by his side. "The Britisher counts on havin' a scrimmage whether we're in a neutral port or not, an' I reckon we're in the mood to give him all he wants!" "I do not intend to board you, sir!" the British captain shouted when he saw that we were ready for him, and Captain Porter replied with a warmth that pleased me wonderfully, considering the fact that at heart I am a coward:-- "If your ship fouls this frigate, sir, I shall open upon you, for I am fully prepared for action!" "I do not intend to board you, sir!" Captain Hillyar cried again; but all the while the _Phoebe_ was creeping nearer to us. "Stand ready, boarders!" Captain Porter shouted, giving no further heed to the Britisher's announcement. "Get away the instant she touches us, and once on her decks you know your duty!" By this time the jib-boom of the _Phoebe_ was across our forecastle, and the ship in such a position that we might have sunk her before the _Cherub_ could come near enough to take part in the work. Master Hackett had already laid hold of the spar, and I was alongside of him, never for an instant remembering that I should have been frightened. Phil, a huge cutlass in his hands, was looking about for a place on which to leap; and, taking it all in all, if I had been capable of connected thought, I would have said that neither ship could avoid an action.