“Then heave a shot across the rascal’s fore-foot at once,” shouted I; “and you, my man, hoist away the ensign at the flash of the gun,” I continued to the fellow who was standing by the peak signal halliards.
As the words left my lips there was a ringing report and a smart concussion; and, springing upon the weather rail, I was just in time to see the shot neatly strike the water immediately under the brigantine’s figure-head, the spray from it leaping up and leaving a dark stain upon the foot of her foretopmast staysail.
“Well aimed!” exclaimed I exultantly; “if you will all do as well as that throughout the fight, lads, you will soon give a good account of her.”
While I was still speaking there came an answering flash from the brigantine, which at the same moment boldly ran up a black flag at her gaff-end; and ere the report had time to reach us, a nine-pound shot crashed fair into our bows, raking us fore and aft, and carrying off the top of our unfortunate helmsman’s head as it flew out over our taffrail. The poor fellow sank to the deck all in a heap, without a groan, without a quiver of the body, and I sprang to the wheel just in time to save the schooner from broaching-to.
“Anyone hurt there, for’ard?” I shouted; for I saw two or three men stooping as though to help someone.
“Yes, sir,” answered one of the men; “poor Tom Parsons have had his chest tore open, and I doubt it’s all over with him!”
“You must avenge him, then,” I shouted back. “Load again, and give it her between wind and water if you can.”
They were already reloading the gun, even as I spoke, and a minute later the piece again rang out, the shot striking the brigantine’s covering-board fair and square, close to her midship port, and making the splinters fly in fine style. We were now so close to her that we could see that her decks seemed to be full of men, and I thought I heard a shriek as our shot struck. Her reply was almost instantaneous, her whole starboard broadside being let fly as she shot into the wind in stays; and once more the shot—five nine-pounders—came crashing in through our bulwarks, filling the air with a perfect storm of splinters, but happily hurting no one but myself. A large jagged splinter struck me in the left shoulder, lacerating the flesh rather badly; but one of the men sprang to my assistance and quickly bound it up.
“Up helm, my man, and let her go off until our starboard broadside bears,” said I to the man who now relieved me at the wheel, adding in a shout to the crew—
“Stand by your starboard guns, and fire as they come to bear upon her!”