The gunner applied the match and the Holker quivered as the old reliable tom dealt out its rebuke to the Englishman. Captain Risk shaded his eyes with both hands as he watched for the results of his gunnery. The shot rose in parabolic beauty of flight while instants seemed moments to Captain Risk and his crew, but true to its aim the eighteen-pounder cut the enemy’s fore-topsail and yard, both of which went by the board. “I’ll show that rapscallion that he’s not on a pleasure cruise,” chuckled the proud Risk, as he rubbed his little chubby hands and paced the quarter-deck nervously. The gleam of delight in the little skipper’s eye had no bounds, for he had saved, for a time at least, his heart’s desire, the Holker, from humiliation. Now there was excitement on the deck of the frigate. The huge hulk yawed up into the wind as her sails came aback after the head-sail power was cut down, but the nimble jackies soon swarmed aloft and cleared away the wreckage, and the other sails were trimmed for a fresh run before the whole-sail breeze. The Holker had not yet gained security by any means, for the captain of the Roebuck was one of those thoroughbred English sea-dogs who had earned his promotion from a middy’s berth to the command of one of the fleetest ships on the English Admiralty register. Captain Risk must earn his safety, if he were to save his ship. Yet minutes meant precious advantage to the Holker, and while the frigate was losing headway, the brig’s crew was heaving cargo overboard and the privateer was leaping on the waves like a hound as she staggered under every stitch of canvas that she could bear. The gain on the enemy was perceptible as each inch of free board gave her life. She rose on the huge waves with more ease and labored less on each crest. The gale had begun to increase rather than fall, so that when the frigate steadied up before it once more she had her courses all set, her main-topsail and main-topgallant sail, and the fore-topmast stay-sail to hold her head up. A mighty cheer went up as the frigate leaped into the wind again in full pursuit of the brig. “Just give us two hours more,” said Captain Hamilton of the Roebuck to Lieutenant Nelson, “and we will have that devilish rebel under our lee,” as the British commander took a long look through his glass at the brig about five miles ahead. “That’s well, sir, if we can catch him,” replied Lieutenant Nelson. “But he seems to be making wonderful headway and I believe those Yankees are charmed.” “We had one, once, point-blank under our starboard battery on the Sir John, but the rascal took to his heels and ran us out of sight too quickly to tell about it. He came into the wind and shot under our stern while we expected nothing but for him to strike; and before we could bring our battery to bear, we had to wear ship, so he escaped with only a few scattering shots. Lord Ralston cut off the grog for a fortnight to get even with his chagrin and disappointment.”