The London merchants have put a price on him, and there'll be that, and himself, and a share in the Indiaman besides, and we'll go back to Peter Port with our pockets lined." We gave him a cheer and hungered for the fray.
John Ozanne took us round in a wide sweep to open the ships, and every eye and glass was glued to them.

As we rounded the Indiaman's great gilded stern, about a mile away, it did not need John Ozanne's emphatic--"It's him!" to tell us we were in for a tough fight, and that three prizes lay for our taking.

We gave John another cheer, tightened our belts, and perhaps--I can speak for one at all events--wondered grimly how it would be with some of us a couple of hours later.
The Frenchman cast off at once and came to meet us, the Red Hand flying at his masthead, the red lump at his bows, the red streak clearly visible just below the open gun-ports.
"Do your duty, lads," said John Ozanne.

"There'll be tough work for us.

He carries heavy metal.