While the unwounded hands swarmed into the rigging, the surgeon came aft in all haste; but Dodd declined him till all his men should have been looked to: meantime he had himself carried to the poop and laid on a mattress, his bleeding head bound tight with a wet cambric handkerchief, and his pale face turned towards the hostile schooner astern. She had to hove to, and was picking up the survivors of her blotted-out consort. The group on the _Agra's_ quarter-deck watched her to see what she would do next; flushed with immediate success, the younger officers crowed their fears she would not be game to attack them again. Dodd's fears ran the other way: he said, in the weak voice to which he was now reduced, “They are taking a wet blanket aboard; that crew of blackguards we swamped won't want any more of us: it all depends on the pirate captain: if he is not drowned, then blow wind, rise sea, or there's trouble ahead for us.” As soon as the schooner had picked up the last swimmer, she hoisted foresail, mainsail, and jib with admirable rapidity, and bore down in chase. The _Agra_ had, meantime, got a start of more than a mile, and was now running before a stiff breeze with studding sails alow and aloft. In an hour the vessels ran nearly twelve miles, and the pirate had gained half a mile. At the end of the next hour they were out of sight of land, wind and sea rising, and the pirate only a quarter of a mile astern. The schooner was now rising and falling on the waves; the ship only nodding, and firm as a rock. “Blow wind, rise sea!” faltered Dodd. Another half-hour passed without perceptibly altering the position of the vessels. Then suddenly the wounded captain laid aside his glass, after a long examination, and rose unaided to his feet in great excitement, and found his manly voice for a moment: he shook his fist at the now pitching schooner and roared, “Good-bye! ye Portuguese lubber--outfought--outmanoeuvred--AND OUTSAILED!” It was a burst of exultation rare for him; he paid for it by sinking faint and helpless into his friend's arms; and the surgeon, returning soon after, insisted on his being taken to his cabin and kept quite quiet. As they were carrying him below, the pirate captain made the same discovery, that the ship was gaining on him: he hauled to the wind directly and abandoned the chase. When the now receding pirate was nearly hull down, the sun began to set. Mr. Tickell looked at him and said, “Hallo! old fellow, what are _you_ about? Why, it isn't two o'clock.” The remark was quite honest: he really feared, for a moment, that orb was mistaken and would get himself--and others--into trouble. However, the middy proved to be wrong, and the sun right to a minute: Time flies fast fighting.