Just as he spoke, a man beside us shouted, ‘A boat! a boat!’ and looking forth ahead, we saw, clearly relieved against the whiteness of a breaking sea, one of the frigate’s barges coming tossing down upon us, while, almost at the same instant, a couple of dark sails shot, as it were, like dusky shadows into the faintly lighted circle around us, illuminated by the half-dozen lamps which, in imitation of the rest of the fleet, we had fixed to different parts of the rigging, and then in a moment, as the vessel which bore the canvas rose upon the crest of a sea, we all recognised the long, low galley which had laid the pearl boat aboard. She was flying along close hauled to the wind, the white foam beating in showers over her long dusky form, and sometimes over the two patches of sails which she carried. The boat of the frigate lay right athwart her track. There were two loud shouts from those in the boat and those in the sailing galley, then, in an instant, a straggling volley of musketry was shot by the former. The flashes illuminated the sea, showing the sharp and carved prow, ending in a serpent’s head, of the adventurous craft, and the grim faces of a cluster of men, who waved their hands and shook axes and cutlasses at the Spanish boat. Then there was a sudden order, in English, on board the galley, ‘Port! Hard a-port! and give them the stem.’ The bows an instant fell off from the wind, lifted on a sea, and crushed down upon the doomed boat, driving her under water like an eggshell, while, with a loud hearty hurrah, the Buccaneer swept past us, not three fathoms from our bowsprit, and, in a moment, disappeared in the night. ‘A sail, close to astern,’ was at the moment sung out from the other extremity of our craft.