"Board her!" shouted Du Guay-Trouin. "Board her!" and, bringing the wheel close around, he swung the bow of the _Francois_ into the side of the Englishman. But, as the sailors scampered to the bulwarks with cutla.s.s and with dirk, a sheet of flame burst from the port-holes of the drifting _Nonsuch_. She was afire.

"Luff! Luff!" cried the keen-eyed French mariner, and the _Francois_ drew away as the red flames curled upward with a cruel hiss.

With a swift turn the helm again spun over, under the quick hand of Du Guay-Trouin, and the _Francois_ was jibed about in order to run under the port bow of the Englishman.

"Hold, Captain!" cried a French Lieutenant. "We, ourselves, are afire!"

As he spoke--a direful cloud of vapor rolled from the starboard quarter.

"Alack!" answered the now furious Renee. "This puts an end to the fighting of this day, and we'd soon have had the second Britisher. All hands below and bucket out this fire!"

So, as night fell upon the rolling ocean, the _Falcon_ lay drifting helplessly, while the _Nonsuch_ and the _Francois_ were burning like two beacons upon a jutting headland.

As day broke, the _Francois_ filled away (for the fire had been extinguished after an hour's toil) and ranged within striking distance of the _Nonsuch_. A broadside belched from her starboard guns and an answering roar came back from the cannon of the Englishman. The fore and main masts of the _Nonsuch_ trembled for a moment--then tottered and fell--while the gallant Captain, struck in the chest by a flying piece of sh.e.l.l, fell dying upon the deck. Du Guay-Trouin again attempted to board, at this moment, but the third mast was shaking and he was forced to sheer off lest the tangle of yards and rigging should fall and crush his vessel. He hung within hailing distance of the crippled sea-warrior, and, seeing that his antagonist was now helpless, cried out through his trumpet:

"Run up the white flag, or I'll give you a broadside that will sink you."

No answering hail came from the deck of the battered _Nonsuch_, but the piece of a torn, white shirt was soon fluttering from the tangled rigging of the foremast. Thus the gallant Renee had defeated two warships of equal strength, and had captured vessels with a rich and valuable cargo. Now, don't you think that this fellow was a doughty sea rover? And, although the English made many excuses, the fact still remains that a single privateer had conquered double her own force in a fair and open fight upon the high seas.

The st.u.r.dy _Francois_ could just barely drift into St. Malo--so badly crippled was she--but the rest came safely to port, in spite of a hard gale which blew down the masts of two of the lumber boats. And doughty Renee refitted the _Nonsuch_, transferred his flag to her, called her the _Sans-Pareil_, and flung his flag defiantly from her mast-head in spite of the fact that she was "made in England." All France was agog over his exploit.

Now, know you, that doughty Renee was a "Blue;" a "Blue" being a man of the people (the bourgeoisie) who were not of aristocratic birth.

And, as the French Royal Marine was the most exclusive body of officers in the world, birth and station being necessary for admittance therein, the t.i.tled office-holders threw up their hands when Du Guay-Trouin's name was mentioned for a place of command, saying,--

"Why, he's only a beastly Democrat. Pooh! Bah! We do not care to have such a fellow among us." And they shrugged their shoulders.

The officers of the French Royal Marine wore red breeches, and, if by chance a democrat were given a commission, he had to appear in blue small-clothes throughout his entire career. Very few of the "Blues"

ever came to be an Admiral, for the odds were too great against them.

But Renee had done so bravely and well that a sword was sent him by the King, who wrote,--

"Should you wish a commission in the Royal Navy, good sir, it shall be yours."

And to this, Du Guay-Trouin replied,--

"I feel that I can do better where I am, Most Gracious Majesty. I will remain a Privateer." For Du Guay-Trouin wished to acc.u.mulate riches, as his forebears had done.

So, cruising down the coast of Ireland, he fell in with three East Indiamen, whom he captured with ease, and, piloting them to St. Malo, declared a dividend of two thousand pounds ($10,000) a share, to the stockholders in his staunch vessel. And the value of the shares was but one hundred pounds ($500) each. Would not the men of Wall Street love such a fellow in these piping times of peace?

A month later we find him cruising in the Bay of Biscay, where--in the dead of night--he ran into a great English fleet, roving about for just such vessels as the _Sans-Pareil_ and eager for a broadside at the French privateer. But young Renee--for he was now twenty-three--had not lost his nerve. "There was no time," he wrote, "for hesitation. I had two valuable prizes with me and ordered them to hoist Dutch colors and to run away to leeward, saluting me with seven guns each as they went.

"Trusting to the goodness and soundness of the _Sans-Pareil_ I stood towards the fleet, as boldly and as peaceably as if I had really been one of their number, rejoining them after having spoken the Dutchmen.

Two capital ships and a thirty-six gun frigate had at first left the fleet to overhaul me; but, on seeing what I was doing, the ships returned to their stations; the frigate--impelled by her unlucky fate--persisted in endeavoring to speak the two prizes, and I saw that she was rapidly coming up with them.

"I had by this time joined the fleet, tranquil enough in appearance, though inwardly I was fuming at the prospect of my two prizes being taken by the frigate; and, as I perceived that my ship sailed much better than those of the enemy who were near me, I kept away little by little, at the same time forereaching on them. Suddenly, bearing up, I ran down to place myself between the prizes and the frigate.

"I should have liked to lay aboard of her and carry her in sight of the whole fleet; but her captain, being suspicious, would not let me get within musket-shot of him, and sent his boat to help me. But, when the boat was half way, her people made out that we were French, and turned to go back; on which, seeing that we were discovered, I hoisted my white flag and poured my broadside into the frigate.

"She answered with hers; but, not being able to sustain my fire, she hauled her wind, and with a signal of distress flying, stood to meet the captain's ship, which hastily ran down towards us. As they stopped to render her a.s.sistance, and to pick up her boat, I was able to rejoin my prizes, and, without misadventure, to take them to Port Louis."

Again France rang with acclaim for the hero of this bold exploit, and again the King offered a commission to the gallant sea-dog. But Du Guay-Trouin shook his head.

"Perhaps I will become an officer in the Royal Marine later on," said he. "But not now. I am too happy and successful as a Privateer."

He was quite right, for in March, 1697, was his greatest exploit.

While busily scanning the horizon for sail in the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, upon the thirteenth day of that auspicious month, he saw upon the horizon, a cl.u.s.ter of vessels. They drew near and proved to be the Dutch East India fleet convoyed by two fifty-gun ships and a thirty-gun sloop-of-war. With him was the _Sans-Pareil_ of forty-eight guns, and the little sloop-of-war _Lenore_, mounting fourteen. The hostile squadron was formidable, and Du Guay-Trouin hesitated to attack.

In command of the Dutch vessels was Baron van Wa.s.senaer, one of a family of famous sea-fighters from Holland, and he manoeuvred his ships with consummate skill; always interposing his own vessel between the French privateer and his fleet of merchantmen.

"Ah-ha," cried gallant Renee, at this moment. "Here come some of my own boys."

And--sure enough--from the direction of France, and boiling along under full canvas, rolled two privateersmen of St. Malo. Cheer after cheer went up from the deck of the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, as they pounded through the spray, for this made the contending parties about equal, although the Dutch boats were larger, heavier, and they had more guns aboard.

The Dutchmen now formed in line. In front was the flagship--the _Delft_--with her fifty guns glowering ominously from the port-holes; second was the thirty-gun frigate; and third, the other war-hound of fifty guns: the _Hondslaardjiik_. Through a trumpet Du Guay-Trouin shrilled his orders.

"The _Sans-Pareil_ will attack the _Hondslaardjiik_," cried he. "The two privateers will hammer the frigate, while I and the _St. Jacques des Victoires_ will attend to the _Delft_. The _Lenore_ will sail in among the convoy. Fight, and fight to win!"

A fine breeze rippled the waves. The two squadrons were soon at each others' throats, and there upon the sobbing ocean a sea-fight took place which was one of the most stubborn of the ages.

As the Frenchmen closed in upon the Dutch, the _Hondslaardjiik_ suddenly left the line and crashed a broadside into the _St. Jacques des Victoires_. It staggered her, but she kept on, and--heading straight for her lumbering antagonist--ran her down. A splitting of timber, a crunch of boards, a growl of musketry, and, with a wild cheer, the Frenchmen leaped upon the deck of the Dutch warship; Du Guay-Trouin in the lead, a cutla.s.s in his right hand, a spitting pistol in the left.

_Crash! Crackle! Crash!_ An irregular fire of muskets and pistols sputtered at the on-coming boarders. But they were not to be stopped.

With fierce, vindictive cheers the privateers of St. Malo hewed a pa.s.sage of blood across the decking, driving the Dutchmen below, felling them upon the deck in windrows, and seizing the commander himself by the coat collar, after his cutla.s.s had been knocked from his stalwart hand. The Dutchman was soon a prize, and her proud ensign came fluttering to the decking.

But things were not going so well in other quarters. Disaster had attended the dash of the _Sans-Pareil_ upon the _Delft_. An exploding sh.e.l.l had set her afire and she lay derelict with a cloud of drifting smoke above, when suddenly, _Crash!_

A terrible explosion shook the staunch, little vessel, her sides belched outward, and a number of sailors came shooting through the air, for a dozen loose cartridge boxes had been caught by the roaring flames. Helplessly she lolled in the sweep of the gray, lurching billows.

"Hah!" shouted Van Wa.s.senaer, as he saw his work. "Now for the saucy Du Guay-Trouin," and, twisting the helm of the _Sans-Pareil_, he soon neared the _St. Jacques des Victoires_, which was hanging to the _Delft_ like a leech, firing broadside after broadside with clock-like precision, her sea-dogs cheering as the spars crackled, the rigging tore; and splinters ricochetted from her sides.

"Ready about!" cried Renee, wiping the sweat from his brow, "and board the _Hondslaardjiik_. Now for Van Wa.s.senaer and let us show the Dutchman how a privateer from St. Malo can battle."

So, luffing around in the steady breeze, the privateersman rolled ominously towards the lolling _Delft_. A crash, a sputter of pistols, a crushing of timber, and grappling hooks had pinioned the two war-dogs in a sinister embrace. And--with a wild yell--the Frenchmen plunged upon the reddened decking of the flagship of the courageous Van Wa.s.senaer, who cried, "Never give in, Lads! What will they think of this in Holland!"

There was a different reception than when the privateers rushed the _Hondslaardjiik_. The Dutch fought like wildcats. Three times the cheering, bleeding Frenchmen stormed the planking, and three times they were hurled back upon the slippery deck of their own ship; maddened, cursing, furious at their inability to take the foreigner.

"The conflict was very b.l.o.o.d.y both by the very heavy fire on both sides, of guns, muskets, and grenades," says Du Guay-Trouin, "and by the splendid courage of the Baron Van Wa.s.senaer, who received me with astonishing boldness."

"Bear away," ordered the courageous Dutchman, at this juncture. "We must have time to recover and refit our ship."

And--suiting the action to his words--the badly battered _Delft_ filled, and crept well to leeward.

Meanwhile the two privateers of St. Malo had captured the frigate as she lay helpless; a white flag beckoning for a prize crew.

"The _Faluere_ will attack the _Delft_," shouted Du Guay-Trouin, running near the largest of these; a ship of thirty-eight guns. "I must have time to breathe and to refit."

But stubborn Van Wa.s.senaer was ready for his new antagonist. He received the privateer with such a furious fire that she turned tail and fled to leeward; her captain bleeding upon the p.o.o.p, her crew cursing the blood which ran in the veins of the valorous Hollander.

[Ill.u.s.tration: COMBAT BETWEEN DU GUAY-TROUIN AND VAN Wa.s.sENAER.]