Mesty then came forward, with a sabre in one hand and a pistol in the other, and thus addressed the seamen of the frigate,—

“I tell you dis, my lads— you not so strong as we— you not got better arms— we not under gun of frigate now, and ab determination not to go board. ’Pose you want us, come take us— ’pose you can. By all de power, but we make mincemeat of you, anyhow.”

The seamen paused— they were ready to fight for their country, but not to be killed by or kill those who were their own countrymen, and who were doing exactly what they would have done themselves. The lieutenant thought otherwise; he was exasperated at this sensation.

“You black scoundrel, I left you out because I thought you not worth having, but now I’ll add you to the number.”

“Stop a little,” replied Mesty.

The lieutenant would not take the Ashantee’s very prudent advice; he flew forward to seize Mesty, who, striking him a blow with the flat of his sabre, almost levelled him to the deck. At this the men and other officers of the frigate darted forward; but after a short scuffle, in which a few wounds were received, were beaten back into the boats. The lieutenant was thrown in after them, by the nervous arm of Mesty— and, assailed by cold shot and other missiles, they sheered off with precipitation, and pulled back in the direction of the frigate.

“There will be a row about this,” said Oxbelly, “as soon as they come clear of the vessel. If the frigate gets hold of us she will show us no mercy. There is a breeze coming from the north-west. How fortunate! we shall be three leagues to windward, and may escape.”

“I doubt if she could catch us at any point of sailing: they may come up with the prizes, but can do nothing with them.”

“No, the boats which boarded them are already returned to the frigate; she must wait for them, and that will give us a start and it will be night before they can even make sail.”

“Fire a gun for the prizes to close,” said Jack; “we will put the men on board again, and then be off to Palermo as fast as we can.”

“We can do no better,” said Oxbelly. “If ever I chance to meet that fellow again, I will trouble him to repeat his words. Trim the sails, my lads.”

“His language was unpardonable,” observed Jack.

“Since I’ve been in the service, Mr. Easy, I have always observed that some officers appear to imagine, that because they are under the king’s pennant, they are warranted in insulting and tyrannizing over all those who have not the honour to hoist it; whereas, the very fact of their being king’s officers should be an inducement to them to show an example of courtesy and gentlemanly conduct in the execution of their duty, however unpleasant it may be.”

“It is only those who, insignificant themselves, want to make themselves of importance by the pennant they serve under,” replied our hero.

“Very true, Mr. Easy; but you are not aware that a great part of the ill-will shown to the service, is owing to the insolence of those young men in office. The king’s name is a warrant for every species of tyranny and unwarrantable conduct. I remember Mrs. Oxbelly telling one of them, when ——”