“Mr Thompson,” cried the captain, who appeared to have screwed up his courage to the right pitch, and had now taken his position for a moment on one of the carronades; “you will lay the brig right—”
Bang, bang—whiz, whiz—bang—whiz, came three shots from the enemy, cleaving the air between our masts. The captain jumped down from the carronade, and hastened to the capstan, without finishing his sentence. “Shall we fire when we are ready, sir?” said I; for I perceived that he was not capable of giving correct orders.
“Yes—yes, to be sure,” replied he, remaining where he was.
“Thompson,” said I to the master, “I think we can manage in our present commanding position, to get foul of him, so as to knock away his jib-boom and fore-topmast, and then she can’t escape. We have good way on her.”
“I’ll manage it, Simple, or my name is not Thompson,” replied the master, jumping into the quarter-boat, conning the vessel in that exposed situation, as we received the enemy’s fire.
“Look out, my lads, and pour it into her now, just as you please,” said I to the men.
The seamen were, however, too well disciplined to take immediate advantage of my permission; they waited until we passed her, and just as the master put up his helm so as to catch her jib-boom between our masts, the whole broadside was poured into his bow and chess-tree. Her jib-boom and fore-topgallant went down, and she had so much way through the water, that we tore clear from her, and rounding to the wind shot a-head. The enemy, although in confusion from the effects of our broadside, put up his helm to rake us; we perceived his manoeuvre, and did the same, and then squaring our sail, we ran with him before the wind, engaging broadside to broadside.
This continued about half-an-hour, and we soon found that we had no fool to play with. The brig was well fought, and her guns well directed. We had several men taken down below, and I thought it would be better to engage her even closer. There was about a cable’s length between both vessels, as we ran before the wind, at about six miles an hour with a slight rolling motion.
“Thompson,” said I, “let us see if we cannot beat them from their guns. Let’s port the helm, and close her, till we can shy a biscuit on board.”
“Just my opinion, Simple; we’ll see if they won’t make another sort of running fight of it.”