Under the Meteor Flag: Log of a Midshipman during the French Revolutionary War
time to pay off, and gather way on t’other tack, as I may say, that we was able to get the bearins of it. You see, sir, there’s only about sixty on us all told, now that we’ve sent away a prize crew, and we reckon that there ain’t far short of 220 hands aboard of Johnny, yonder. Nevertheless and notwithstanding, howsumdever, as your honour says, they’re little better than so many tailors, and tailors was never worth very much that ever any of us heard on at a good stand-up fight; so the long and the short of it is this, sir; you put us alongside, and we’ll have her in the twinklin’ of a purser’s lantern. Ain’t that it, boys?”

“Ay, ay, that’s it, Bob; you’ve paid it out without so much as a single kink; we mean to have her,” responded a voice in the crowd.

“Then three cheers for the skipper, and may he get us lots of prize-money,” exhorted Bob, to the intense amusement of Captain Brisac; and the cheers were given with such energy that I have no doubt they were distinctly heard on board the Frenchman.

Captain Brisac briefly thanked the men for their plucky response to his call, and then sent them back to their quarters, all impatience for the eventful moment to arrive.

The frigate was rapidly nearing us, but I thought there would be time to get my head plastered up; so I rushed below, and found Bolus standing at the table, with his coat off and his shirt-sleeves rolled up; a formidable array of long, narrow-bladed knives, sharp enough to cut one if only looked hard at, on one hand, and an equally formidable array of saws, tweezers, long needles, silken thread, etcetera, etcetera, on the other.

“Here, doctor,” I exclaimed; “the skipper’s compliments, and will you ‘clap a plaster over my mast-head,’ and bear a hand about it, please; the Frenchman will be alongside of us in less than five minutes, and we are going to board and carry him with a rush.”

“And you, I presume, intend to head the boarders as usual,” remarked the doctor, with a quiet grin. “What is the extent of the damage? Here, sit down and let me have a look at it; don’t be impatient; I’ll undertake to tinker you up as good as new in two or three minutes,” he continued, as I seated myself, and he began to sponge the blood away. “There is no great harm done, merely a simple laceration of the scalp. There, I think that will keep the top of your head from blowing off, until after you have demolished the Frenchman. I should dearly like to go with you, but what would my poor patients do, if I happened to get an unlucky 
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