“Stand by to fire our stern-chasers, Mr Massey,” sang out the captain, “but we’ll let the enemy find out the range before we throw a shot away.”
The captain did not fail to keep his eye on the canvas, to be ready to alter his course should there be the slightest shift of wind. The second mate continued walking the deck in sullen silence, determined apparently to take no further part in defence of the ship. Owen stood ready, match in hand, to fire the stern-chasers. In the course of a few minutes the Frenchman fired another shot; it went ricocheting over the water, and passed the quarter of the Ouzel Galley.
“Our guns will carry as far as the Frenchman’s,” exclaimed the captain. “Now see what you can do, Owen.”
The first mate, looking along his gun, fired; the shot struck the enemy. The crew of the Ouzel Galley watched eagerly for the effect of the shot. It went through the Frenchman’s fore-topsail. A loud cheer showed their satisfaction.
“Well done, Owen—fire the other and try to wing him,” cried the captain. While the crew were loading the first gun, Owen fired the second. The captain, who had his glass turned towards the enemy, shouted, “Hurrah! it’s struck the fore-topsail yard.”
The spar, however, remained standing, and some of the Frenchmen were seen running aloft to fish it. Owen sprang back to the first gun he had fired, and again discharged it; but the enemy at that moment kept away, and before what damage it had effected could be seen, clouds of smoke issued from her, and the shot from her whole broadside came rushing towards the chase. They were mostly aimed high, and either went through the sails or passed by without doing any injury; but two struck the quarter, and another glanced along the side, leaving a long white furrow.
“Those shots were well aimed, but if she plays that trick often we shall have a better chance of escaping,” observed the captain, calmly; “try another shot, Owen.”
The French ship quickly came up to the wind. Owen again fired, and one of the Frenchmen was seen to drop to the deck. The enemy had now brought a gun on the forecastle, from which they opened fire in return to the Ouzel Galley’s stern-chasers. Both vessels then fired away as fast as the guns could be loaded and run out; but though most of Owen’s shot told with some effect, the damage he produced was speedily repaired, while several of the Frenchmen’s shot struck the Ouzel Galley, though as yet no one had been injured. The former was, however, in the mean time, creeping up nearer and nearer, and also, from sailing closer to the wind, weathering on the chase. The second mate, who had been walking the deck with as much calmness as if no fight was going on, again came up to the captain.
“I before warned you that it would be useless to contend with yonder ship,” he said, “and before many minutes are over we shall have the shot from her broadside crashing on board us. By holding out you risk your own and your people’s lives, and the lives of others dear to you—for it is more than possible that another broadside will send the ship and all in her to the bottom. We must—”
Before the captain could reply the enemy fired his two foremost guns, the shot from which shattering the bulwarks sent pieces of splinter flying about, one of which struck Carnegan on the arm.