The French flag went up to the lugger’s mainmast a moment later, and with a swing of the wheel McHale headed her toward the coast.
“We’ll get shallow water further in,” said he, “and some ugly looking rocks. A vessel of her draft will not venture in after us.”
But the frigate seemed to give her attention to the Montespan; the ensign did not appear to deceive her, for another shot rang out, and the French vessel’s fore topmast was carried away. Then another and another shot followed in quick succession; and the Montespan signaled her surrender, with her rudder shot away and a hole knocked in her hull just above the water line.
“Good firing,” said Ethan, admiringly. Then he continued with a change of tone, “And again the dispatch is lost to me.”
He was standing by the after rail and watching the beautiful handling of the frigate’s guns; as he spoke he saw a boat pull away from her to the Montespan; and then she turned her attention to the lugger.
“Are we out of range?” asked the young American of the skipper.
“We’ll know in a moment,” answered McHale, grimly.
And so they did; as the frigate swept around she let go her forward battery at the Erin and the shot shrilled above her in the dusk. But McHale held the little vessel upon her way; night was all but upon them, and he hoped that shoal water and darkness would assist him to elude the enemy. The gunnery of the latter was not now so good; she fired many times and did little or no damage; night had spread her bat-like wings above the waters when a last shot splintered the mizzen mast, and it fell in a tangle of rigging over the stern.
“Take care,” roared Longsword to Ethan, who stood directly in its way.
But the warning came too late; with a wild cry the lad was swept over the side into the sea; the lugger went rushing by, having changed her course to down coast; the lanterns of the frigate could be seen gleaming for a time further out to sea. But at last these, too, disappeared and Ethan Carlyle was left to utter darkness, struggling with the waves.