While we were thus talking, the corvette had drawn still nearer to the brig, and her shot began to tell with considerable effect. Down came the brig's maintop-gallant-mast, the spars hanging by the rigging. We next saw several hands going aloft to clear it away, when another shot struck the maintop-mast. The Moors attempted in haste to slide down the stays and shrouds, but scarcely had they begun their descent when the mast bent over to leeward, and down it came with a crash, jerking off many of them into the sea. There in vain they struggled for life; the combatants flew on, leaving them to their fate. Still the brig had her mainsail set, and with the gale there was blowing, that was sufficient after-canvas for her to carry with advantage. She ceased firing. "Hurrah! she is going to strike," we exclaimed; but the wreck of the maintop-mast was quickly cleared away, and she commenced again with greater briskness than ever. In return, the corvette plied her fast and furiously with shot, which must have told pretty severely among her people on deck, though, of course, we could not see the damage which was done. The brig was within a quarter of a mile of the mouth of the harbour. It was high-tide, but we well knew that there was not water sufficient on the bar to allow the corvette to enter. Still, on she boldly came in hot chase. "She cannot surely fancy that she can venture in," exclaimed Captain Gale. "She'll be lost to a certainty if she does. Poor fellows! not one will escape with their lives should she strike. Carr, we must run out, and try and pick some of them up, at all hazards. The wind is sufficiently to the northward to carry us clear, and the people on shore are so engaged in watching the chase, that they will not observe us getting under way till we are clear from the guns of the castle." "Ay, ay, sir, with all my heart," answered the mate. "I'm not quite certain that the brig will get scot-free either." As he spoke, I saw a thick smoke ascending from the deck of the rover. "She's on fire! she's on fire!" shouted several of us. But then we thought of poor Stenning, and what would become of him. "All hands make sail," cried the captain, descending on deck. "We must slip, Mr Carr. There's no time for heaving up the anchor." The crew could scarcely refrain from giving vent to their feelings of excitement in a shout. "Silence, my lads; we must not let the Moors know what we are about." Never did a crew let fall the topsails with greater good-will than we did. We had kept two reefs in them for an emergency. I now saw the wisdom of the captain's forethought when he gave the order, as some time before we had loosed sails.