"Is she not beyond range of our gun, Amos?"
"Nare a bit, sir. Our demi-culverin is bigger, I'se warrant, than any gun she has aboard. Point-blank her range be a hundred fathoms; but I reckon I can hit the knave at six hundred at the least. Put the helm down when I call, and then I'll send an apple aboard will be ill to digest."
He returned to the gun, and sang out to Dennis; he put the helm down, the vessel yawed, and when she lay broadside to the pursuer, Amos carefully laid the piece, aiming directly at the fore-mast. He waited till the vessel rose on the next wave, then gave the word to William Hawk, who stood by the breech with lighted match. The match was applied; there was a deafening roar, followed by a sound of rending; the Mirandola quivered from stem to stern; and through the smoke it was seen that the gun had jumped clean out of the carriage and was lying against the step of the mainmast. Amos ran to it in haste, fearing that it might have burst in the discharge. But it was uninjured. Several planks amidships had been started; the mainmast was heavily scored; and a number of round shot were rolling about the waist. Amos shouted to the men to remount the gun and sponge it out, while he ran to the side to see what the effect of the shot had been, calling to Dennis to put the helm up again and head the vessel on her former course.
The smoke had cleared away, and Amos saw that the pursuer had gained considerably, and was still coming on apparently undamaged. But a few minutes later he uttered a shout of glee. There was a bustle in the forepart of the Spanish ship; men were crowding to the gunwale; and Amos perceived that they were letting a sail down over the side.
"I hit her betwixt wind and water," he cried to Dennis. "They are letting down a sail to stop the leak. True, I aimed at the foremast, but she rose somewhat quicker than I did guess and so 'scaped with a hulling."
"But she has gained on us, Amos. The hurt she has suffered does not abate her speed."
"Truly, so it is, but I will give her another so soon as the gun is righted, and call me a joulter-head an I do not deal her such a blow that she'll tottle like a man fair buddled."
Dennis called to Luke Fenton to take the helm, while he went forward to scan the horizon for the hazy streak which he had taken, half an hour before, for the shore-line. He had barely reached the cut-water when he heard the roar of a gun and the sound of a crashing blow. For an instant the vessel's head fell off, and turning hastily he saw Jan Biddle rushing to the helm. A round shot from the enemy's bow-chaser had fallen smack upon the poop, smashing the binnacle, and killing poor Fenton instantly. Only Biddle's prompt action had saved the ship from yawing and presenting her broadside to the pursuer.
Seeing that the helm was in safe hands, Dennis turned once more and glanced anxiously towards the shore, which was now beginning to loom large to windward. Was it possible, he wondered, to reach it before he could be cut off by the second Spanish vessel? He measured the distance with his eye, and his heart sank as he perceived that, if she held her present course, the Spaniard could not fail to run across the bows of the Mirandola long before she could gain the coast. It seemed that he must choose between surrendering and fighting against heavy odds. But certainly one ship would be easier to deal with than two; might not another fortunate shot from the demi-culverin cripple the vessel in chase, and so enable the Mirandola to get away from one of her pursuers? Dennis did not forget that there was still a third vessel somewhere to leeward, but she was at present out of sight.
By this time the gun had been righted and reloaded. Dennis hastened to rejoin Amos.