The long eighteen spoke out, and was instantly followed by the three sixes on that side of the Noank. It was at the very moment when Lieutenant Tracy remarked, inquiringly:—
"What? Don't they mean to answer us? You don't say they'll surrender without firing a shot? That isn't like 'em, now—"
His next utterance was much louder.
"George!" he shouted. "There goes my bowsprit! The jolly-boat's knocked into matchwood! I declare! There's a hole in the mains'l! Is anybody hurt?"
"Not a man, sir!" shouted back Fletcher, cheerfully. "We'll give it to 'em!"
The brig had been already going about, and her other broadside was as well directed as the first. It would have been bad for the Noank but for her heavy timbers and the lightness of Tracy's metal. She was hulled in three places, and there was a ragged split in her foresail. It did not prevent her going about, however, and her next trio of iron messengers were as well aimed as were the Englishman's.
"They hulled us, sir," reported the Arran's sailing-master. "No great harm. Three men hurt by splinters. The after rigging's cut a bit. We must finish that chap, sir."
"That cursed long gun o' theirs!" growled Tracy, fiercely. "Captain Syme told me, and I hardly believed him. That's what may play the mischief with us. I wish we were at broadsides with her."
That was precisely the advantage which Captain Avery did not intend to give him, right away, and the Arran, losing her bowsprit, was not by any means so difficult to keep away from or to outmanoeuvre.
Slowly, carefully, Up-na-tan had again sighted his gun and measured his distance. It was tantalizing to watch him as he doggedly refused to throw away a shot.