This unskilful volley went wide of the mark, as was to be expected under the circumstances, and yet inflicted great damage upon the privateersmen. The thing came about after the following fashion: Upon the very beginning of the cannonade, the officer in command of the leading boat had bade his rowers swing their craft directly head on to the fort, thus presenting as small a target as possible. Those in the second boat, however, more intent upon watching the course of the projectiles than anything else, had not noticed this manœuvre, and so, before anything could be done to prevent it, came smashing against the other’s gunwale. In the heavy sea then running this was specially disastrous. The stricken boat had her side stove in, and the on-comer was overturned. Both crews quickly found themselves struggling in the water. Well convinced of the hopelessness of continuing their present assault, the men in the remaining pinnace confined their efforts to rescuing drowning comrades and getting out of range again as quickly as possible. The gale had now increased considerably, and its gathering force gave promise of still fiercer might. By the time the survivors of the boat expedition had returned to their ship the day was drawing close to twilight. Captain Rabentine well realized his double danger. Failing shelter, which could only be found farther up the harbor, and in range of the fort’s cannon, he must put to sea. He was wild with anger at his repulse. What would have been his condition of mind if he had known that the defenders consisted merely of a boy and a few women dressed in soldier clothes? Hastily ordering the cable slipped, Captain Rabentine saw to the spreading of some small storm-sails, and tried to beat out of the inhospitable harbor. But even here fortune seemed to be against him. The full flood-tide was running, and although _La Belle Cerise_ strutted bravely, she could make no perceptible offing. The only road to safety lay directly past the fort and out the other entrance. The privateer Captain well knew that one lucky shot might disable his ship, and cause him to lose control over her. In such a wind and upon such a coast this meant almost certain death and destruction. But it appeared to be his only chance, and he had to take it. Down on the wind swept the privateer. Her decks were awash with foam. She rolled and pitched like a mad thing. Her guns were lashed fast to the deck ring-bolts. It would have been suicidal to try to use them in such a sea. The crew clung to shrouds and railings, gazing ruefully upon the nearing battlements which they had so unsuccessfully attempted to assail. In a few minutes they were almost abreast of the green hill. Scarcely a hundred yards distant were the grinning embrasures, from which protruded the muzzles of cannon in plain view. [Illustration: SHE ROLLED AND PITCHED LIKE A MAD THING]