The galley was to plunge her beak straight into the _Merry Maid's_ stern, and its crew, after one discharge of cannon to clear the frigate's poop, were to board at once.

The men stood ready with their hatchets and cutlasses and set up a wild yell as they drove straight for her.

From below the slaves echoed it with a melancholy wail.
On they tore.

As they yelled again, _L'Heureuse's_ beak was but thirty yards from her prey.

A few more leaps and it would strike.
"One--two--" The little man looked back in their faces and smiled.
"Three--four--five--" He dropped his hand.