But most human events, even calamities, have two sides. The _Agra_ being
brought almost to a standstill, the pirate forged ahead against his
will, and the combat took a new and terrible form. The elephant gun
popped and the rifle cracked in the _Agra's_ mizen top, and the man
at the pirate's helm jumped into the air and fell dead: both Theorists
claimed him. Then the three carronades peppered him hotly; and he
hurled an iron shower back with fatal effect. Then at last the long
eighteen-pounders on the gun-deck got a word in. The old Niler was not
the man to miss a vessel alongside in a quiet sea: he sent two round
shot clean through him; the third splintered his bulwark and swept
across his deck.
“His masts--fire at his masts!” roared Dodd to Monk, through his
trumpet. He then got the jib clear, and made what sail he could without
taking all the hands from the guns.
This kept the vessels nearly alongside a few minutes, and the fight was
hot as fire. The pirate now for the first time hoisted his flag. It
was black as ink. His crew yelled as it rose: the Britons, instead of
quailing, cheered with fierce derision; the pirate's wild crew of yellow
Malays, black chinless Papuans, and bronzed Portuguese, served their
side guns, twelve-pounders, well, and with ferocious cries. The white
Britons, drunk with battle now, naked to the waist, grimed with powder,
and spotted like leopards with blood, their and their mates', replied
with loud undaunted cheers and a deadly hail of grape from the
quarter-deck; while the master-gunner and his mates, loading with a
rapidity the mixed races opposed could not rival, hulled the schooner
well between wind and water, and then fired chain-shot at her masts, as
ordered, and began to play the mischief with her shrouds and rigging.
Meantime, Fullalove and Kenealy, aided by Vespasian, who loaded, were
quietly butchering the pirate crew two a minute, and hoped to settle the
question they were fighting for: smooth bore _v._ rifle; but unluckily
neither fired once without killing; so “there was nothing proven.”
The pirate, bold as he was, got sick of fair fighting first. He hoisted
his mainsail and threw rapidly ahead, with a slight bearing to windward,
and dismounted a carronade and stove in the ship's quarter-boat, by way
of a parting kick.
The men hurled a contemptuous cheer after him; they thought they had
beaten him off. But Dodd knew better. He was but retiring a little way
to make a more deadly attack than ever: he would soon wear, and cross
the _Agra's_ defenceless bows, to rake her fore and aft at pistol-shot
distance; or grapple, and board the enfeebled ship, two hundred strong.
Dodd flew to the helm, and with his own hands put it hard a-weather, to
give the deck-guns one more chance, the last, of sinking or disabling
the Destroyer. As the ship obeyed, and a deck-gun bellowed below him, he
saw a vessel running out from Long Island, and coming swiftly up on his
lee quarter.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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