But for the man at the wheel, none of her crew showed above the bulwarks, and after the castaways had wasted several rounds in a vain attempt to hit the helmsman, Jack laid down his gun in disgust and said, "Let's cease firing and wait till he's a bit closer. It's no use throwing away ammunition like this." "I agrees," assented Broncho. "As the kyards lay we-alls is simply wastin' chips. We'll hold our hand some." "It's the perishin' day he's waitin' for," grumbled Bill, putting aside his smoking rifle and coolly filling his pipe. "He'll just keep station till sun-up, an' then the oratorio'll begin to play again." The pursuer and pursued now raced along broadside to broadside, less than three cables' lengths separating them. The _Black Adder_, though she was pinched up in the wind all she would bear, would not look up as close as the whaleboat, though she went faster through the water. Jack's arm was now attended to and skilfully bound up by Loyola. A bullet had simply grooved through the flesh--not much more than a graze, but sufficient to cause a good deal of bleeding. Jack, whilst his hurt was being doctored, thought hard. If something were not done soon, Dago Charlie's obstinate perseverance would prevail. "We'll worry him yet," began the rover. "Shore, an' euchre him too," said Broncho confidently. "The wind's light enough now to help us," went on Jack. "Let's try some short tacking. We can go about three times to his one." "That's good tactics, sure enough," commented Bill. "Splendid!" cried Loyola. "Let's start at once." "Right-oh! Ready about there, Tari. Bill, you ship an oar and help her round. We three will manage the lugsail." The castaways had the boat round smartly, and away they went on the port tack, heading north-east. The _Black Adder_ was completely taken by surprise, and lost some valuable minutes before she followed suit and put her helm down. Compared with the whaleboat, the schooner was a long time coming round. Anxiously the boat's crew watched her as she rounded to with flapping head-sails, bowing her glistening black hull to the long swell with slow, dignified movements; then, as she felt the wind on the other tack, she lay over and came smoking after them, a frothing streak of white rolling away from her sharp stem. She made a perfect picture for an artist as she cut through the gleaming path of the moon, carved out in a hard, clean outline of jet; and, forgetting her peril, Loyola could not help exclaiming upon the beauty of the scene. "Just look at her! What other work of man can approach a sailing-ship for perfect grace and----" "Ready about!" broke in Jack, with a queer smile and a muttered, "Sorry to interrupt you, Lolie," and round came the whaleboat again. This time the schooner was prepared, and as she swung in stays she sent a ball from her twelve-pounder skipping after the chase.