of the brig, and would no doubt have brought about the loss of the mast, if another, that almost instantly succeeded it, had not cut the spar itself in two, bringing down, as a matter of course, everything above it.  Nearly half of the main-mast was gouged out of that spar, and the gaff was taken fairly out of its jaws.  The fore-yard was cut in the slings, and various important ropes were carried away in different parts of the vessel.

Flight, under such circumstances, was impossible, unless some extraordinary external assistance was to be obtained.  This Spike saw at once, and he had recourse to the only expedient that remained; which might possibly yet save him.  The guns were still belching forth their smoke and flames, when he shouted out the order to put the helm hard up.  The width of the passage in which the vessels were was not so great but that he might hope to pass across it, and to enter a channel among the rocks, which was favourably placed for such a purpose, ere the sloop-of-war could overtake him.  Whither that channel led, what water it possessed, or whether it were not a shallow cul de sac, were all facts of which Spike was ignorant.  The circumstances, however, would not admit of an alternative.

Happily for the execution of Spike’s present design, nothing from aloft had fallen into the water, to impede the brig’s way.  Forward, in particular, she seemed all wreck; her fore-yard having come down altogether, so as to encumber the forecastle, while her top-mast, with its dependent spars and gear, was suspended but a short distance above.  Still, nothing had gone over the side, so as actually to touch the water, and the craft obeyed her helm as usual.  Away she went, then, for the lateral opening in the reef just mentioned, driven ahead by the pressure of a strong breeze on her sails, which still offered large surfaces to the wind, at a rapid rate.  Instead of keeping away to follow, the Poughkeepsie maintained her luff, and just as the Swash entered the unknown passage, into which she was blindly plunging, the sloop-of-war was about a quarter of a mile to windward, and standing directly across her stern.  Nothing would have been easier, now, than for Captain Mull to destroy his chase; but humanity prevented his firing.  He knew that her career must be short, and he fully expected to see her anchor; when it would be easy for him to take possession with his boats.  With this expectation, indeed, he shortened sail, furling top-gallant-sails, and hauling up his courage.  By this time, the wind had so much freshened, as to induce him to think of putting in a reef, and the step now taken had a double object in view.