‘I’m afraid she wont bear another point, sir,’ ventured the Lieutenant; ‘she strains fearfully as it is, sir.’ ‘Then keep her as she is, sir, if you can,’ growled the captain, ‘and the d------d rascal don’t sink us before the night sets in.’ There was indeed a fearful accuracy to the shot from the Constance, and there was that singular good luck (if we may call that good luck which sacrifices human life) attending every discharge that sometimes follows the throws of a gambler, who for a time seems sure of every game and high numbers--thus was it from the shot from the American brig. Nearly every one told with fearful accuracy upon the deck of that Dolphin. It looked almost like a miracle that gunnery could be so accurate in such a sea, but so it was, and fatally so. The captain of the Dolphin foamed and raged like the very tempest about him at this unaccountable state of things, until at length he walked up to Mr. Millman who was at the helm, and said: ‘Mr. Millman, we must pull down that article,’ pointing to the English flag that was flapping and cracking like the report of a pistol, at the main; ‘the brig already leaks from one of those cursed shot. And besides in such a storm.’ ‘_Strike_, sir?’ asked the Lieutenant in astonishment. ‘For a while only.’ ‘Ah! I see, sir; a ruse, that is all, I suppose.’ ‘Mr. Millman,’ continued the captain, ‘they can’t board, would to God they might try that,’ said he, clenching his fist. ‘The night will soon set in, sir.’ ‘True, we can take our own course then.’ The necessary orders were given, and the proud flag of old England was again humbly lowered to the simple pine tree,-which still floated from the main of the Constance, she ceased her fire, and all the care of her crew was devoted to keeping the brig safe till the storm should abate. Intense darkness soon shut victor and prize from each other’s sight, while the storm still raged its wild fury until nearly morning, when it gradually subsided. The morning broke clear and cold, and Fanny could see her late antagonist some three miles to windward of the Constance, and at that distance she could easily see the crippled condition of her spars. ‘Did he know,’ said she to Mr. Brace, ‘that he would find but about half a dozen men to contend with, we should yet have him down upon us seeking for close quarters; but I think he has had quite enough of us and that iron piece amidships there, will make him keep well away, if he can.’ This was hardly said on board the brig, when the yards of the Dolphin were squared, her sails all set, and in a few minutes she was cutting the water swiftly towards where the Constance lay. ‘Ah! Mr. Brace, the enemy are coming down lor another brush,’ said Fanny, ‘and there goes St. George’s flag again, or I’ve not got my eyes; the fellow has seen with his glass how weak we are on board here.’