fine as the voyage down was dirty, they came up gently within forty miles
of Boston, and then, because there was nothing else to do, went idling up
and down all night, keeping watch. The next morning there was a mist in
the air, which might become fog. Iberville had dreaded this; but he was
to have his chance, for even when Berigord's face lowered most the look-
out from the shrouds called down that he sighted two ships. They were
making for the coast. All sail was put on, they got away to meet the
newcomers, and they were not long in finding these to be their quarry.

Phips did not think that any ship would venture against them so near
Boston, and could not believe the Maid of Provence an enemy. He thought
her an English ship eager to welcome them, but presently he saw the white
ensign of France at the mizzen, and a round shot rattled through the
rigging of the Bridgwater Merchant.

But he was two to one, and the game seemed with him. No time was wasted.
Phips's ships came to and stood alongside, and the gunners got to work.
The Bridgwater Merchant was high in the water, and her shot at first did
little damage to the Maid of Provence, which, having the advantage of the
wind, came nearer and nearer. The Swallow, with her twenty-odd guns, did
better work, and carried away the foremast of the enemy, killing several
men. But Iberville came on slowly, and, anxious to dispose of the
Swallow first, gave her broadsides between wind and water, so that soon
her decks were spotted with dying men, her bulwarks broken in, and her
mainmast gone. The cannonade was heard in Boston, from which, a few
hours later, two merchantmen set out for the scene of action, each
carrying good guns.

But the wind suddenly sank, and as the Maid of Provence, eager to close
with the Bridgwater Merchant, edged slowly down, a fog came between, and