“That’s true, Mr Keene, but it’s not always the case. I only hope she will; if not, I fear we shall lose more of our men.”
The firing continued, and our main-mast had received so many shots, that we were obliged to hold it for its support. While so employed, the moon rose, and the two vessels had now a good view of each other. I directed my glass to the horizon under the moon, and was delighted to perceive a black line, which promised wind; I reported it to the master, and the promise was kept good, for in a quarter of an hour our sails flapped, and then gradually filled.
“She has steerage way, sir,” reported Bob Cross.
“Thank Heaven for that,” replied Captain Delmar. “Jump up, men. Brace round the yards, Mr Hippesley.”
“The enemy’s main yard is cut in two in the slings, sir,” reported I, after I had my glass upon her.
“Then her last hope is gone,” replied Mr Hippesley. “Haul over the starboard jib-sheet forward—let her come to, quartermaster. Larboard guns, my lads.”
“Now, my men,” cried Captain Delmar, “make short work of her.”
This injunction was obeyed. We had now a good sight of the enemy, and brought our whole broadside to bear upon her stern; and after a quarter of an hour more firing I perceived that her ensign was no longer on the staff, where it had been hoisted after the fall of the mizenmast; neither had she for the last five minutes given us a gun in return.
“She has struck, sir, I think,” said I to Captain Delmar; “her ensign is down.”
“Pass the word ‘Cease firing,’ Mr Hippesley; but let the guns be all reloaded in case of accidents. Have we a boat that can swim? Examine the cutters, Mr Keene.”