"A self-confessed pirate, by the Piper!" exclaimed Fred Gascoigne, who had calmly crawled out from under the bow-sheets of my boat when we were half-way between the frigate and the shore. "Now--" "Give way, men!" shouted Gadsby, springing to his feet in the stern-sheets of the launch, and waving his sword above his head. "Give way, and get alongside before they can fire again. Gunners, fire slap at his bulwarks, and we'll board in the smoke. Marines, fire in through the open ports. Hurrah, lads, put your backs into it!" At that moment, as the smoke of the brigantine's broadside thinned away and permitted us again to catch a glimpse of her hull, I noticed a peculiarity about the craft that seemed to offer us a very important advantage; her captain had, in fact, committed the same oversight as the Frenchman in Pleher Bay, and I instantly hailed: "Launch ahoy! Do you notice, Mr Gadsby, that she has no nettings triced up on her port side? Apparently they are making certain that we intend to go alongside on her starboard side, and--" "By Jove! Yes, you are right, Delamere," answered Gadsby. "We will board her on the port side. First cutter on the port quarter; second cutter on her port bow. Keep up your fire, marines. Now, gunners, as soon as you are ready, blaze away!" The three boat-guns spoke at almost the same instant, and so close were we now to our quarry that our grape-shot literally tore her starboard bulwarks to pieces, and a terrific outburst of shrieks and yells that instantly followed upon the discharge bore eloquent evidence to the terrible havoc that it had wrought among her crew. The moment that we had fired the boats separated, the first cutter making a wide sweep to port in order to pass under the brigantine's counter, while we sheered away to starboard to get under her bows, the launch passing outside of us in order to get a fair run for the brigantine's waist.