"'Tis the prisoner, he that escaped!" shouted a powerful voice.
"Sentry, give him a shot from your piece," cried Captain Pearson himself, springing on the rail and leaning over toward them. Old Price shook his fist at the frigate in stout defiance. The sharp crack of a musket rang out in the air. The bullet seemed to have struck something forward in the boat; a shudder swept through the little craft, a hoarse, frightful cry quivered through the night, there was splash, the boat struck something, and that something, whatever it was, rasped along her keel as she drove ahead.
"Clear away the second cutter," cried another voice on the frigate.
"Keep all fast!" shouted Pearson. "We have bigger game to-night," and then he hollowed his hand and cried out as the Serapis drew rapidly away,--
"We'll take care of you, sir, in the morning, when we return." A few more musket-shots were fired at them from different parts of the ship; one bullet tore through the sail and whistled by the ear of the young lieutenant, but did no harm.
"We are saved again!" cried Elizabeth, sitting up and looking gratefully at her lover.
"But not without a cost," said the young man, solemnly.
"What mean you? Are you hurt; are you wounded?" she cried.
"Price!" called O'Neill, softly, though he knew it was useless. There was no answer.
"Oh, that awful cry!" said Elizabeth, shuddering.