At this the gallant British tars groaned loudly, and Captain Moore, drawing his sword and shaking it at the rapidly advancing sloop, shouted:
"Orders or no orders, I will fire one round if I lose my commission for it. Blow your matches, boys!"
The guns were already manned, and at the word there was a flash of light, a puff of smoke, and a round shot came hissing and shrieking across the water and struck the Priscilla's mainmast fairly in the middle, splintering it. The sloop staggered under the blow, and in a minute or two the mast went by the board with a crash.
A great cheer broke from the Margaretta's men at that.
"Never mind," cried Jerry. "This is not the first mast that was ever carried away, and we have spare spars and carpenters too. Wait for us in Holmes Bay, and we will fight it out yard-arm to yard-arm before sundown."
The Margaretta, with her men cheering and jeering, sailed away toward the open sea. The Priscilla being the best-found sloop in New England, in a little while the stump of the mast was cleared away, a lighter spar, but still good enough, was fitted, and she made sail on it.
As she neared the ocean the wind freshened every moment, and although the sun shone brilliantly, a heavy sea was kicked up. Soon they sighted the Margaretta, with her topsail backed, and gallantly waiting for her enemy.
In all this time Jack Leverett showed a steadiness and coolness beyond his years. Once Jerry O'Brien said to him,
"Youngster, if you flinch, depend upon it, your father shall know it."
"All right," answered Jack; "and if I don't flinch I want my mother to know it."