There was a grinding crash, a loud yell from the oncoming vessel; the Kestrel went over almost on her beam-ends, and then the stranger scraped on by her bows, carrying away bowsprit, jibboom, and the sails.
“Chien de fool Jean Bool, fish, dog!” roared a voice from the side of the large schooner, for such Hilary could now see it was. “Vat for you no hoist light? I run you down.”
“Hoist your own lights, you French idiot!” shouted back Hilary between his hands. “Ahoy, there! heave-to!”
There was a good deal of shouting and confusion on board the schooner, which went on several hundred yards before her way was stopped; but before this Hilary had ordered out the two boats; for there was no need to hail the men below, with “All hands on deck!”
The men came tumbling up in the lightest of costumes, one of the foremost being the lieutenant, with his nether garments in one hand, his cocked hat in the other.
“Quick!” he shouted. “Into the boats before she goes down!”
“No, no, sir!” cried Hilary excitedly. “Let’s see the mischief first. Is she making water, carpenter?”
“Can’t see as she is,” replied that worthy. “We’ve lost the bowsprit and figurehead, and there’s some planks started; but I think we shall float.”
“Of course; yes,” cried Lieutenant Lipscombe. “Back from those boats, men! I’ll blow the brains out of the mutinous dog who dares to enter first. Discipline must be maintained. Here, Waters, let me lean against you.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said the gunner; and the lieutenant proceeded to insert his legs in the portion of his uniform intended to keep his lower man warm.