“Get ready, lads,” the skipper said.  “There is just one chance yet.  She will run by us.  The instant she is past, up sail again.  We shall be a mile away before they can get her round into the wind again.  If she doesn’t cripple us with her shot, we may weather her yet.  We needn’t mind the cutter.”

The frigate came foaming along, the crew busy in taking sail off her.  The instant she had passed, and was preparing to round to, the sails of the lugger flew up like magic, and she was soon tearing along almost in the eye of the wind, as if to meet the cutter, which was running down towards her.

“Down below, lads, every man of you,” the captain shouted.  “We shall have a broadside in a minute.”

In a moment, the deck was clear of all save the skipper and his mate, who stood at the tiller.  The frigate swept slowly round, and then, as her guns came to bear, shot after shot was fired at the lugger, already three-quarters of a mile to the windward.  The shot hummed overhead, one struck the water alongside, a yard or two away, but still she was untouched.

“Some of her shots went as near the cutter as they did to us,” the skipper said.  “She won’t fire again.”

They were now fast approaching the cutter, which, when she was within a quarter of a mile, changed her course and was brought up again into the wind, firing the four guns she carried on her broadside as she came round.  The lugger’s head was paid off, and this placed the cutter on her starboard quarter, both going free.  The former was travelling the faster, but a gun was fired from the cutter’s bow, and the shot struck splinters from the lugger’s quarter.  The crew were on deck again now.

“Train that gun over the stern,” the skipper said.  “If we can knock her mast out of her, we are saved.  If not, they will have us yet.”

He had scarcely spoken when there was a crash.  A shot from the cutter had struck the mizzen mast, a few feet above the deck, and the mast and sail fell over to leeward.  There was a cry of rage and dismay.

“Luck’s against us,” the skipper said bitterly.  “Down with the sail, lads.  This time it is all up with us.”

The sail was lowered, and the lugger lay motionless in the water, until the cutter came up and lay within fifty yards of her.  A boat was at once lowered, and an officer was rowed to the lugger.

“So we have caught you, my friends, at last,” he said, as he sprang on board.

“You wouldn’t have done it, if it had not been for the frigate,” the skipper said.

“No; I will say your craft sails like a witch,” the officer replied.  “I wish we could have done it without her.  It will make all the difference to us.  The frigate will get the lion’s share of the prize.  What is the value of your cargo?”

“Two hundred kegs of brandy,” the skipper replied, “and fifteen hundred pounds’ worth of lace and silks.”

“A good prize,” the officer said.  “Not your own, I hope, for you have made a brave chase of it.”