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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Jean Le Marchant could tell you more about him than anyone else round here," said Uncle George, looking musingly at me. "They have dealings together in trading matters, I believe. Then, they say, John Ozanne is fitting out a schooner in Peter Port. He's a good man, but how he'll shape at privateering I don't know." "Who's going to command her?" I asked. "John himself, I'm told."
My heart felt like to burst with its boiling rage, and all one could do was to wait patiently at one's post, and it was the hardest thing I had ever had to do yet. John Ozanne made us all lie down, save when a change of course was necessary, while he did his utmost to get the weather gauge of the enemy. And he managed it at last by a series of tacks which cost us many men and more spars.
And I told her all I had to tell about Torode, and John Ozanne, whom she had known as a boy. "He was always good-hearted was John, but a bit slow and easy-going," said she. "But we'll hope for the best." "Will Carette be across in the next day or two?" "I doubt it. Those two who got hurt will need her. If you don't see her you shall leave me a kiss for her," she chirped.
John Ozanne gazed wildly round for a minute, and then raised his right arm and volubly cursed the Frenchman, who was coming right down on us. "Oh, you devils! You devils!
But Uncle George had no doubts about it. Krok, too, recognised him." "Krok did? Ah then " and he nodded slow acceptance of the unwelcome fact. Before I was through with the telling of my story, and signing it, and swearing to it before various authorities, I was heartily sick of the whole matter, and wished, as indeed I had good reason, that I had never sailed with John Ozanne in the Swallow.
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