As he spoke I saw a white splinter glance from the fore-topmast of the frigate, while a rent appeared in the sail. The Frenchmen shouted as if they had done a clever thing, but they had little to shout for; the next instant a shower of round-shot came whistling through our sails, some just above our heads; two struck the lugger's side, and one killed three men dead on the decks. Though I knew how dangerous was our position I was too eager to see what was taking place to go below. Still the gallant French captain would not strike, but stood as energetically as before, encouraging his men to work the guns. I wished that he would give in though, for my own and Toby's sake, nor did I think that he had a chance of escaping. There he stood full of life and energy, now hauling on a gun-tackle, now looking along a gun. The next moment there was a whistling and crash of shot, and I saw several mangled forms sent flying along the deck. One was that of the brave captain. I ran to assist him, but though there was a convulsive movement of the limbs, he was perfectly dead. At the same moment down came the lugger's mainyard. I saw that it was completely up with her at all events. Some of the privateer's men continued at the guns, but the greater number tumbled headlong down below, to avoid the frigate's next broadside. My eye glancing up at that moment, I saw the French flag still flying. Believing that the only way to avoid the catastrophe was to haul it down, followed by Toby, I ran aft to do so. I was too late. The Frenchmen fired, and another crushing broadside struck the lugger, and made her reel with the shock. The companion-hatch was knocked to pieces. We should have been killed had we remained at our former post.