"That's bizness, Jack, that's the tactics! Kill the bloomin' swine an' all's serene. One of us ought to be able to 'it the bull's eye," asserted Bill keenly. "Why, chucks!" exclaimed Broncho, "it's a cert if he comes mouchin' 'round he's due to get creased a whole lot. That yappin' wolf'll find it a heap fatiguin', chasin' round ropin' after this outfit. I allow he's some fretted now he pastured you-alls on the island so headlong an' thoughtless. That play o' his is goin' to make him sweat blood." FOOTNOTES: [14] Nickname for the cooper. CHAPTER XI "A SEA FIGHT UNDER THE STARS" By midnight both wind and sea had dropped considerably. At one bell the castaways saw the schooner's fore-topmast staysail rise slowly as her crew manned the halliards, and a second later her mainsail raised its head. Jack gave a quick look round, and then said sharply, "In with that sea-anchor, boys; it's time we were flitting." In a moment the inaction on the whaleboat turned to a keen, nervous energy. Hand over hand the oars were hauled alongside, and the sea-anchor got in over the bows; then away they went to windward. The boat lay over to it, heavily pressed under a close-reefed lugsail, wallowing, splashing, crashing into the seas. Jack, at the steering-oar, sailed her a "clean full," whilst the rest of the castaways baled furiously. All of a sudden a puff of white smoke flew away from the side of the schooner, and the faint report of a gun reached them. "A snot from his twelve-pounder amidships," said Jack calmly. The ball screamed past overhead, and plumped into the sea a long way off to windward. "It'll be wild shooting in this jump of a sea," observed Bill. "Shall I bring my pop-gun into action?" drawled Broncho almost indifferently, as he fingered his Winchester. "Yes, let him have it; he's not going to drop lead over us without getting some back," returned the rover fiercely. "Jump it into him, Broncho," cried the bluejacket eagerly. "That I shorely will without any ondue delays," replied the cowpuncher, and taking a rapid sight he fired. "It ain't easy shootin' in this here turmoil," he muttered, watching to see the effect of his shot. "Now he's scatterin' it loose," he went on, as a whole volley blazed from the schooner. "Twelve-pounder again and rifle-fire," commented the man-of-war's man, as the bullets screamed overhead. "That vigorous josser will have to lower his sights a bit if he aims to do us any damage." "I allow that shot makes him chew his mane; he's gettin' some acrid. He reckoned he was goin' to bluff us sports quick an' easy," muttered Broncho, pumping another cartridge into his gun. "Now, my frenzied hold-up!" he cried derisively, and fired again. "Get into the firing-line, Bill," broke in their leader sharply. The bosun's mate needed no second bidding, but seized his gun eagerly. "'Ere's 'santy' to you, Mister Dago Charlie," he cried out, and he pulled the trigger.