So he hoisted his colours and opened fire with his stern guns, the enemy replying with his bow-chasers by the space of over two hours. The _Mars_, however, was not a brilliant sailer, and by this time the 74--the _Neptune_--had crept up, so that she was almost between two fires. There was nothing for it but surrender. "Well, gentlemen," said Walker, smiling, "we don't strike to one ship only--haul down the colours!" And so he went on board the _Fleuron_ to surrender his sword and his privateer commission. The French captain was not as polite as he expected: "How dare you, sir," he asked, in excellent English, "in so small a ship, fire against a force like me?"
"Sir," replied Walker, "if you will look at my commission you will find I had as good a right to fight as you; and if my force had not been so inferior to yours I had shown you more civil treatment on board my ship"--which was a very good specimen of English politeness.
"How many men of yours have I killed?" demanded the Frenchman.
"None at all, sir." "Then, sir, you have killed six of mine, and wounded several; you fired pieces of glass."
This preposterous accusation was, of course, denied; but it turned out that some missiles of a very unusual nature _had_ been discharged from the _Mars_. The captain of one of the stern guns, realising that they must surrender, took about sixteen shillings from his pocket, saying that "sooner than the French rascals should plunder him of all he had in the world, he would first send it among them, and see what a bribe would do." So he wrapped his shillings up in a rag, crammed them into the gun, and sent them humming and whistling through the Frenchman's rigging, which no doubt gave rise to the glass theory--neither Frenchmen nor any one else could be expected to recognise the "ring" of a coin under the circumstances! The facetious gunner was an Irishman.
Well, the _Mars_ was captive, while the _Boscawen_ had prudently escaped; but this was not the end of the incident. The action took place on a Friday, and at daybreak on Sunday morning four large ships were sighted astern; it did not require a long period of observation to realise that they were coming up pretty fast, and in a couple of hours they were recognised as English men-of-war. Then the Frenchmen began to regret that they had stopped to capture the privateer, instead of making the most of their way homeward with their treasure, which now appeared almost inevitably destined to become English treasure.