It almost seemed as if her captain had not seen the enemy sweeping to destroy him.
For thirty-five minutes she held quietly on beside her convoy.
And then the helm was shifted, and she came down straight into the Frenchman's teeth.
It was a gallant stroke, and a subtle--so subtle that M.de la Pailletine mistook its meaning and gave a great shout of joy.
He fancied he saw the English delivered into his hand.

But his rejoicing was premature.
To begin with, he perceived the next moment that the frigate, by hastening the attack, had caught his galley alone.

Into this trap he had been led partly by the excellence of his crew.
Not only was his the fleetest vessel of the six, but he had always been jealous to choose the strongest _forcats_ to man it.
Moreover, M.de Sainte-Croix had been slow in starting, and by this time _La Merveille_ was a league or more behind her consort.
Still the Commodore was in no way disturbed.

He admitted to his lieutenant beside him that the frigate was showing desperate gallantry; but he never doubted for a moment that his galley alone, with two hundred fighting-men aboard, would be more than a match for her.
Down came the _Merry Maid_, closer and closer, her red-crossed flag fluttering bravely at the peak; and on rushed the galley, until the two were within cannon-shot.

M.de la Pailletine gave the order, and sent a shot to meet her from one of the four guns in the prow.
As the thunder of it died away and the smoke cleared, he waited for the Englishman's reply.