“Well done, my little piece of brass!” said Roberts, slapping the gun familiarly on the breech; “only get us out of our scrape, and I’ll polish you as bright as silver!”

Whether the gun understood him or not, or, what is more probable, the short distance between the brig and the privateer made it more effective, more mischief took place in the sails and rigging of the schooner.  Her topsail-sheet was, however, soon rebent, the sail reset, and her other casualties made good.  She ceased firing her long gun, and at dusk had crept up to within a quarter of a mile, and commenced a heavy fire of musketry upon the brig.

“This is rather warm work,” observed Williams at the helm, pointing to a bullet-hole through his jacket.

“Rather too warm,” observed Collins, the convict.  “I don’t see why we are to risk our lives for our paltry share of prize-money.  I vote for hauling down the colours.”

“Not yet,” said Newton, “not yet, my lads.  Let us try a few shots more.”

“Try!—­to be sure,” rejoined Roberts; “didn’t I say before, that a starn chase was a long one.”

“That only makes the matter worse,” replied Collins; “for while we are to be peppered this way, I think the shorter the chase the better.  However, you may do as you please, but I’m not so fond of it; so here’s down below to the fore-peak!”

“Ben, you’re a sensible chap, and gives good advice; we’ll just follow you,” said Hillson.

“Birds of a feather always flock together; so, Ben, I’m of your party,” added Thompson.

The convicts then descended forward out of the fire of the musketry, while Newton and Roberts continued to load and fire, and Williams steered the brig.  The Frenchman had already found his way below again, before the convicts.

The schooner was within two cables’ length, and the fire of the musketry was most galling; each of the English seamen had received slight wounds, when, just as it was dark, one of the shots from the brig proved more effective.  The main-boom of the schooner was either cut in two, or so much injured as to oblige them to lower her mainsail.  The brig now increased her distance fast, and in a few minutes they lost sight of the schooner in the darkness of the night.

“Huzza!” cried Roberts, “didn’t I tell you that a starn chase was a long one?”

Not a star was to be seen, the darkness was intense; and Newton consulted with Williams and Roberts as to what was their best plan of proceeding.  It was agreed to haul up for a quarter of an hour, then furl all, and allow the privateer to pass them.  This was put in execution:  the convicts, now that there was no more firing, coming to their assistance.  The next morning the weather proved hazy, and the schooner, who had evidently crowded sail in pursuit of them, was nowhere to be seen.

Newton and his crew congratulated themselves upon their escape, and again shaped their course for the Channel.