In a very short time little Renee had a taste of that war and adventure which he craved, for a historian writes that:

"During the first three months of this cruise his courage was tried by a violent tempest, an imminent shipwreck, the boarding of an English ship, and the threatened destruction of his own vessel by fire. The following year, still as a volunteer, he displayed the greatest personal courage and won much fame in an engagement which his ship had with five merchant vessels."

"Ah ha," said little Renee, "this is indeed life. I am having a good time."

So well did those higher in command feel towards the youthful sailor, that, at the age of eighteen, he was actually put in charge of the ship _Danycan_ of fourteen guns,--for France was at war with England, Holland, and Spain, and to him who could strike a quick and well-aimed blow there were "nice pickings" to be had. And the reckless young sea-dog found some "nice pickings" in Ireland, for, he landed an armed party upon the coast of County Clare, where he pillaged a village, burned two ships at anchor, and escaped to his own vessel with considerable booty and family heirlooms of the peasants, who said, "Och, Begorra! We'll be afther that wild bhoy before many suns, and spank him for his unseemly whork."

But the French cried "Voila! Here, indeed, is a brave young Bourgeois," and promptly raised him to the command of the _Coetquen_ of eighteen guns, in which he soon went cruising, accompanied by a sister-ship, the _St. Aaron_.

Prowling around the English channel, the skulking sea-hounds soon came across two small English men-of-war with five valuable merchantmen under their sheltering wings.

"All ready for the attack!" shouted Du Guay-Trouin. "We'll make mince-meat of those foreign hulks, in spite of the fact that they are protected by two men-of-war."

And, crowding on all sail, his own vessel and the _St. Aaron_ quickly bore down upon the Englishmen, who, seeing them approach, hove-to for action.

The engagement was short. After a few broadsides had been delivered, the English struck, the prizes were taken over, and all started for the coast of France. But suddenly a cry went up,

"Sail ho! Sail ho! off the starboard bow!"

"Ta Donc," cried the surprised Du Guay-Trouin. "It is a big man-of-warsman and a Britisher too. We must give up our prizes, I fear. Clap on all canvas and we'll hie us to sh.o.r.e."

So all sail was hoisted, and, steering for the shoals and rocks off Lundy Island--where he knew that the heavy Englishman could not follow--Du Guay-Trouin soon outdistanced and outwitted the _Centurion_: a line-of-battle ship and a formidable opponent. The rich prizes had to be left behind.

Honorable appointments crowded upon the daring, young sea-dog, after this affair, and we find him successively in command of the _Profond_, of thirty-two guns; the _Hercule_, of twenty-eight guns, and the _Diligente_ of thirty-six guns and two hundred and fifty sailors, which was a King's ship borrowed for privateering and run on shares,--the monarch to have a certain part of the winnings.

Like partners in business the _Diligente_ and _Hercule_ now went cruising, and it was not long before the two harpies swooped down upon their prey in the shape of two Dutch East Indiamen, armed with twenty-five guns each, and manned by rotund-bodied Dutchmen. There was rich treasure aboard, and, with eagerness and zeal, the Frenchmen slapped on all canvas in pursuit.

Now was a hot chase. Mile after mile was pa.s.sed, and slowly but surely the Frenchmen gained upon the lumbering foe. Then suddenly,--

_Crash!_

A ball screamed above the head of Du Guay-Trouin, and a Dutchman hove-to for battle.

"Crawl in close," cried the valiant Frenchman, "and don't let go a broadside until you can hit 'em below the water line. Try to scuttle the Dutch lumber merchant!"

His men obeyed him willingly and soon there was a m.u.f.fled roar as the first broadside spoke in the still air. Another and another followed, and the Dutchman trembled like an aspen leaf.

"Hah," shouted the enthusiastic Renee, "up goes the white flag!"

Sure enough, the vessel struck, and aboard of her was the Dutch commodore. But the _Hercule_ was beaten off by the second Dutchman, and, as the privateers boarded the captured vessel, the East Indiaman showed a clean pair of heels, under a cloud of bellying canvas.

Du Guay-Trouin was delighted. "On we go, Boys," he cried, "for we'll sail these waters until we strike another prize." And this is what soon happened.

On May the 12th, the _Diligente_ was cruising alone, when, suddenly six white dots appeared upon the horizon, and six British ships-of-the-line were soon closing in upon the venturous French navigator and his crew.

"Ye G.o.ds," cried the doughty Frenchman, "we're in for it now, but we will give them a lively bout even though we'll get the worst of it."

And here is how he has described the battle:

"One of the English ships named _Adventure_ first overtook me, and we maintained a running fight for nearly four hours, before any other of their ships could come up....

"At length my two topmasts were shot away; on which the _Adventure_ ranged up alongside me, a short pistol-shot off, and hauled up her courses. Seeing her so near, it occurred to me to run foul of her and board her with my whole crew. Forthwith I ordered such of the officers as were near to send the people on deck, got ready the grapnels, and put the helm over.

"We were just on the point of hooking on to her, when unfortunately, one of my Lieutenants, looking out through a port and seeing the two ships so close together, took it into his head that there was some mistake, as he could not think that--under the circ.u.mstances--I had any intention of boarding; and so, of himself, ordered the helm to be reversed.

"I had no idea of what had been done, and was impatiently waiting for the two ships to clash together, ready to throw myself on board the enemy; but seeing that my ship did not obey her helm, I ran to the wheel, and found it had been changed without my order.

"I had it again jammed hard on; but perceived, with the keenest vexation, that the captain of the _Adventure_, having guessed by the expression of my face what I had meant to do, had let fall his courses, and was sheering off. We had been so near that my bowsprit had broken his taffrail; but the mistake of my Lieutenant made me lose the opportunity of one of the most surprising adventures ever heard tell of.

"In the determination I was in to perish or to capture this ship, which was much the fastest sailor of the squadron, it was more than probable that I should have succeeded, and should thus have taken back to France a much stronger ship than that which I abandoned. And, not to speak of the credit which would have attached to the execution of such a plan, it is quite certain that--being dismasted--there was absolutely no other way for me to escape from forces so superior."

But closer--always closer--crowded the British war-dogs, and the valorous French seamen became panic stricken. "We are outnumbered and outfought," cried many, and, deserting their guns, they fled below to the holds, in spite of the vigorous protests of Du Guay-Trouin.

"I was busy trying to put a stop to the panic," says he. "I had cut down one and pistolled another, when, to crown my misfortune, fire broke out in the gun-room. The fear of being blown up made it necessary for me to go below; but, having got the fire put out, I had a tub full of grenades brought me, and began throwing them down into the hold.

"By this means I compelled the deserters to come up and to man some of the lower deck guns; but, when I went up on the p.o.o.p, I found, to my astonishment and vexation, that some cowardly rascal had taken advantage of my absence to haul down the colors.

"I ordered them to be hoisted again; but my officers represented that to do so would be simply giving up the remnant of my ship's company to be butchered by the English, who would give no quarter if the flag were hoisted again, after being struck for so long, and that further resistance was hopeless as the ship was dismasted."

"Never give in, for"--cried Du Guay-Trouin, whose democratic blood was now up, but he did not finish the sentence as a spent shot then knocked him senseless. And--as he fell--the white flag went aloft, for his officers had not his fighting spirit.

"Ah ha," laughed the English jack-tars. "We've got the French rascal at last, and we'll hold him too."

So little Renee was imprisoned in a nice, dark dungeon,--the kind which the English used to put their poor debtors in. But--like a true man of courage--little Renee escaped, took to a smuggler's skiff, and made off to the coast of France, where he arrived on the 18th of June, 1694, and was received right boisterously by the Trouin family.

"My son," spoke his aged mother, "you were indeed not intended for the law, for lawlessness seems to be your particular fancy."

So the delighted Trouins put him in charge of a splendid privateersman mounting forty-eight guns, sailing under the simple name of _Francois_, and, as she forged valiantly into the English channel, her skipper chanted an old French song, which ran,--

"Sons of St. Malo, hark to my lay, With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down.

For we'll capture a lugger ere close of the day, With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down.

"She's filled with gold nuggets, her crew is asleep, Then board her, and take her, for dead men are cheap, We'll spike them and pike them, like so many sheep.

With a Heave! Ho! Blow the man down."

It was not long before a sail was sighted, and, on the 12th day of January, 1695, the stout, little _Francois_ overhauled a solitary timber ship, loaded with huge trees, bound to England from the good town of Boston in New England. She was an easy capture, and, Du Guay-Trouin smiled with joy when her skipper said:

"Three other lumber ships are in the offing. But they are under convoy of the frigate _Nonsuch_ with forty-eight guns, and the _Falcon_ with thirty-eight cannon. Look out my bold sea-dog, there'll be trouble."

But the French mariner laughed.

"It's just what I'm searching for," said he, and forthwith he swung the stout _Francois_ in wide circles, with look-outs at every mast-head.

"Sail ho!" shouted the watch, next morn, and there, off the port bow, were the three merchantmen strung out in a line, with the two protecting gun-boats to windward.

Like a greyhound the _Francois_ swept down upon them, and with the audacity of despair, the privateersman of St. Malo ranged alongside of the _Falcon_ and opened fire. The engagement was short. In an hour's time the guns of the Englishman were silent and a white pennon fluttered from the mizzen-mast.

The _Nonsuch_, meanwhile, had been ranging to windward in a vain endeavor to bring her guns to bear upon the Frenchman without crippling her own mate, and--as the _Francois_ drifted away from the lurching _Falcon_--she bore down to within twenty yards, luffed, and spanked a rakish broadside into the privateer.