“I think our little guns will soon reach her,” observed Newton. “Williams, give me the helm. Go forward with Roberts and the men, and rouse them aft. Be smart, my lads, for she has the heels of us.”
“Come along,” said Roberts. “You, Collins, why don’t you stir?—do you wish to see the inside of a French prison?”
“No,” replied Collins, sauntering forward, “not particularly.”
“Only by way of a change, I suppose,” observed Thompson, another of the convicts. “You have been in every gaol in England, to my knowledge—havn’t you, Ben?”
“Mayhap I have,” replied Collins; “but one gentleman should never interfere with the consarns of another. I warn’t whipped at the cart-tail, as you were, last Lancaster ’sizes.”
“No; but you had a taste of it on board of the Terpsichore. Ben, you aren’t forgot that?” retorted Hillson, the other of the three characters who had been sent with Newton.
In a few minutes the guns were run aft, and the ammunition brought on deck. Newton then gave the helm to Williams, and served one gun; while Roberts took charge of the other. The privateer had continued to near them, and was now within their range. A smart fire was kept up on her, which she returned with her superior metal.
After the firing had commenced, the approach of the privateer was in some degree checked. The guns fired from the stern of the Estelle assisted her velocity through the water; while, on the contrary, the privateer, being obliged to yaw from her course that her guns might bear, and firing from the bow, her impetus was checked. Still the privateer had the advantage in sailing, and slowly neared the brig.
“There’s no need of your coming aft so close upon us,” said Roberts to the two Frenchmen who had been sent on board; “go forward, and keep out of the way. That ’ere chap is after mischief; he had his eye upon the amminition,” continued the sailor to Newton. “Go forward—d’ye hear? or I’ll split your damned French skull with the handspike.”
“Don’t touch him, Roberts,” said Newton.