“Mayhap I have,” replied Collins; “but one gentleman should never interfere in the consarns of another.  I warn’t whipped at the cart-tail, as you were, last Lancaster’sizes.”

“No; but you had a taste of it on board of the Terpsichore.  Ben, you arn’t forgot that?” retorted Hillson, the other of the three characters who had been sent with Newton.

In a few minutes the guns were run aft, and the ammunition brought on deck.  Newton then gave the helm to Williams, and served one gun; while Roberts took charge of the other.  The privateer had continued to near them, and was now within their range.  A smart fire was kept up on her, which she returned with her superior metal.

After the firing had commenced, the approach of the privateer was in some degree checked.  The guns fired from the stern of the Estelle assisted her velocity through the water; while, on the contrary, the privateer, being obliged to yaw from her course that her guns might bear, and firing from the bow, her impetus was checked.  Still the privateer had the advantage in sailing, and slowly neared the brig.

“There’s no need of your coming aft so close upon us,” said Roberts to the two Frenchmen who had been sent on board; “go forward, and keep out of the way.  That ’ere chap is after mischief; he had his eye upon the amminition,” continued the sailor to Newton.  “Go forward—­d’ye hear? or I’ll split your d—­d French skull with the handspike.”

“Don’t touch him, Roberts,” said Newton.

“No, I won’t touch him, if he keeps out of my way.  Do you hear?—­go forward!” cried Roberts to the Frenchman, waving his hand.

The Frenchman answered with a sneer and a smile, and was turning to obey the order, when a shot from the privateer cut him nearly in two.  The other Frenchman, who was close to him, made a rapid descent into the cabin.

“That was well meant, anyhow,” observed Roberts, looking at the dead body; “but it wasn’t meant for him.  Shall I toss him overboard?”

“No, no—­let him lie.  If they capture us, they will perceive it was their own doing.”

“Well, then, I’ll only haul him into the lee-scuppers, out of the way.”

Another shot from the privateer passed through the cabin windows, and went forward into the hold.  The French prisoner ran on deck with as much haste as before he had run below.

“Ay, it will be your turn next, my cock,” cried Roberts, who had been removing the body to the gunnel.  “Now, let me try my luck again,” and he hastened to his gun.  Newton fired before Roberts was ready.  The topsail-sheet of the schooner was divided by the shot, and the sail flew out before the yard.

“That’s a good two cables’ length in our favour,” cried Roberts.  “Now for me.”  Roberts fired his gun, and was more fortunate; his shot struck away the fore-top-gallant-mast, while the royal and top-gallant sail fell before the topsail.