"Wherefore?" he asked.
"We are close on the Buddon-ness—in shoal water," exclaimed the boatswain; "and will strike in three minutes or less."
"Let us take our chance," answered Wood, grimly; "I will rather knock the old ship to pieces than see her an English prize; but, alas! honest Archy—art thou wounded?"
"My mainyard is shot in the slings," groaned the old boatswain, as a ball struck him near the shoulder, and he fell heavily on the deck, with his right arm broken.
At that moment, there was a tremendous shock; the masts nodded like willow wands, and several topmasts with all their yards, sails, rigging, and hamper, came thundering down on the still contested decks; and then a hoarse shout of rage and despair arose from the English ships, for their crews were aware that they were all ashore, or wedged on the shoaly sands together.
To shorten this account, which, as it may be found in many old histories of Scotland, need not be longer dwelt on here, the English trumpets sounded a parley, and the brave Sir Stephen Bull, now thoroughly crestfallen and dejected, surrendered his sword to Sir Andrew Wood; but without shame or dishonour, for he and his crews had done all that brave men might do.
The ships were all floated off by the flood tide; the grapplings cut, jury masts were rigged, and sails set on them, and before midnight they were all safely anchored in the harbour of Dundee, within the protection of the cannon of Broughty.
CHAPTER LXV.
THE ENGLISH PRISONERS.
"Sir Stephen, who was prisoner made
With ships and sailors all,
Unto King James Sir Andrew took,
Before his feet to fall."
SIR ANDREW WOOD.—Old Ballad.