He only got red in the face, and said that he had crossed the herring-pond hundreds of times in crafts not half so seaworthy.

He was like the Froggy who would a wooing go, Whether his mother would let him or no.
The consequences of this defiance of advice were fatal to Old Flyblow; for, a week or two after his victory, he was pounced upon by the French corvette, _Boudeuse_, which was fresh, heavily armed, and well manned.

The commodore's jury masts were knocked to pieces by the first broadside, his flag went by the board, and he was completely at the enemy's mercy.

Willis lent a hand this time with a good will; but it was of no use, the wreck would not obey the helm, and the corvette hovered about, firing broadsides, and sending in discharges of musketry, when and where she liked.

It was only when the commodore saw clearly that there was neither mast nor sail enough to yaw the ship, that he waved his cocked hat in token of surrender.
Fritz and Jack were still confined below with their wounds, when Willis brought them word that they would have to shift themselves and their cargo once more.