‘That’s it,’ almost shrieked Wilfrid in his excitement; ‘yes! that’ll save the botheration of boat-lowering and arguefication and perhaps bloodshed, by George! Run forward now, Finn, and let fly a round-shot at that ugly brute; hit her if you can, no matter where, that they may know we’re in earnest, and that they may believe if they don’t heave to we shall sink them. No remonstrance, Finn, for heaven’s sake! Jump, my dear fellow. Dash it, man,’ he cried passionately, with a quite furious gesture in the direction of the brig, ‘_that’s_ not the object of our chase!’ Finn, with an air of concern, but awed also by Wilfrid’s temper and insistence, hurried on to the forecastle. I watched them load the gun a second time, and burst into a laugh when I saw two fellows rise out of the fore hatch, each of them hugging an eighteen-pound shot to his heart. ‘Only one ball at a time,’ shouted Wilfrid, conceiving very likely that they meant to double-shot the gun. ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ responded Finn. The crew backed away as before. The stout, whiskered sea man, with a face that made one think of a red apple snugged in a setting of horse-hair, who had previously fired the gun and who was apparently the ‘Bride’s’ gunner, sighted the piece with a deliberateness that made me expect wonders. We all held our breath. I fixed my eye on the brig to observe, if possible, where the shot struck her. Then, crash! Had the cannon been loaded to the muzzle the blast could not have been more deafening. The thunder of it swept with a thrill, out and away fiercer than the tremble of the first shock, through the deck, and was almost immediately followed by a loud and fearful yell from the forecastle. I thought the gun had burst. ‘Merciful powers! What has happened?’ cried Wilfrid. Captain Finn came bowling aft fast as his legs would travel, shouting as he ran. ‘What is it? what is it?’ my cousin and I roared out in one voice. ‘The shot’s struck the boat, your honours, and _sunk her!_’ bellowed Finn.