“A gun from the commodore, sir,” reported Newton, who was officer of the watch.  “The flags are up—­they are not our pennants.”

It was an order to four ships of the fleet to run down and examine the strange vessels.

Half-an-hour elapsed, during which time the glasses were at every mast-head.  Captain Drawlock himself, although not much given to climbing, having probably had enough of it during his long career in the service, was to be seen in the main-top.  Doubts, suspicions, declarations, surmises, and positive assertions were bandied about, until they were all dispelled by the reconnoitring ships telegraphing, “a French squadron, consisting of one line-of-battle ship, three frigates, and a brig.”  It was, in fact, the well-known squadron of Admiral Linois, who had scoured the Indian seas, ranging it up and down with the velocity as well as the appetite of a shark.  His force consisted of the Marengo, of eighty guns; the famed Belle Poule, a forty-gun frigate, which outstripped the wind; the Semillante, of thirty-six guns; the Berceau, ship corvette, of twenty-two, and a brig of sixteen.  They had sailed from Batavia on purpose to intercept the China fleet, having received intelligence that it was unprotected, and anticipating an easy conquest, if not an immediate surrender to their overpowering force.

“The recall is up on board of the commodore,” said Mathews, the first mate, to Captain Drawlock.

“Very well, keep a good look-out; he intends to fight, I’ll answer for it.  We must not surrender up millions to these French scoundrels without a tussle.”

“I should hope not,” replied Mathews; “but that big fellow will make a general average among our tea canisters, I expect, when we do come to the scratch.  There go the flags, sir,” continued Mathews, repeating the number to Captain Drawlock, who had the signal-book in his hand.

“Form line of battle in close order, and prepare for action,” read Captain Drawlock from the signal-book.

A cheer resounded through the fleet when the signal was made known.  The ships were already near enough to each other to hear the shouting, and the confidence of others added to their own.

“If we only had all English seamen on board, instead of these Lascars and Chinamen, who look so blank,” observed Newton to Mathews, “I think we should show them some play.”

“Yes,” growled Mathews; “John Company will some day find out the truth of the old proverb, ‘Penny wise and pound foolish!’”

The French squadron, which had continued on the wind to leeward until they could fetch the India fleet, now tacked, and laid up directly for them.  In the meantime, the English vessels were preparing for action:  the clearing of their lumbered decks was the occasion of many a coop of fowls, or pig of the true China breed, exchanging their destiny for a watery grave.  Fortunately, there were no passengers.