“Are Simon and I to bring up ammunition?” I asked, yet knowing full well we could not accomplish the task.
“We’ll leave that for some of the other sailormen this time, lad. You wouldn’t get one charge in a dozen up here without wetting it. It’ll be a case of firing whenever there’s a chance, which won’t be often, accordin’ to my way of thinkin’, an’ we can afford to take our time about it.”
Men were stationed from the ladder of the after-hatchway to the quarter-deck, not more than two feet apart, that the captain’s commands might pass from one to the other, and those on deck were clinging to life-lines, so I was told, lest they be washed overboard by the angry waters.
“Fire as often as you can reload, and strive to cripple her spars rather than the hull!” came the word, whereupon the engagement was opened by Master Josh himself.
It was only with difficulty we could hear the report of the gun above the roar of the tempest; but while the ship was rising on a towering wave we were able to watch the flight of the missile.
It overshot its mark, and the old gunner gave vent to an exclamation of anger.
Then I saw a cloud of smoke emerge from one of the Britisher’s ports, and almost immediately it was dispersed by the rising wind.
She also had opened fire, and, like us, her first shot was a vain one.
This engagement was not like unto any I ever dreamed of, and when half an hour had passed neither ship was the worse for it, so far as could be seen.