Now followed a rumbling sound and some shouts and orders, and then a crash and an explosion that ripped the fog and cut great gashes of red flame through the gray opaque wall.
"Gee!" said the man next to me, with a shiver, "if that had caught us, eh!"
"Good-by, Mary Ann!" said the man in front, looking back over his shoulder.
Mr. Spencer was leaning forward. "They think we're off there," he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Lads, you did well."
Now all was silence again, and the frigate gathered headway to the north. We staid where we were.
But now, if I shall live to be a hundred, I can never get one sound from my ears. To the eastward, and beyond the English vessel, sounded the shrilling of a fife. The first bars of "Yankee Doodle" was the tune it played. I almost leaped up to my feet, but the music was soon ended, for a rattling swingeing crash followed a burst of blurred red flame. I could smell the smoke from the frigate's broadside that reached us now. But it was not she that spoke the second time.
"Kill-Devil's got the weather-gauge of her, by Moses!" said the sailor next to me, putting his arm about my neck and giving me a hug.
"Silence in the boat there," ordered Mr. Spencer, angrily.
A roaring crash and confusion of explosions followed. The men in the bow began to laugh hysterically, and even Mr. Spencer joined them.
"The Young Eagle's got under her quarter. She'll rip her hide," he laughed. "Hark! did you hear that? It's the long twelve. Don't cheer, you fools!"