An hour had passed and only the American had been injured, though but slightly. The crew of the _Constitution_ were becoming restive. Captain Hull paced the quarterdeck with short, quick steps. Although outwardly calm, his whole body was burning with checked excitement. Lieutenant Morris, the second in command, bit his lips and moved his hands about nervously and uneasily. "What does he mean?" he asked Tempest. "That I have been wondering," was the answer. "Shall I give them a broadside?" asked Morris, saluting his chief. "Not yet," was the reply. Lieutenant Morris paced the deck, almost angry at his captain. The _Guerriere_ fired another broadside, and as the shots tore away some of the rigging, the officer muttered to himself: "There will be mutiny if we don't take action." Low as he spoke, Tempest heard him. "Do you think so?" "Did you hear? I am sorry I uttered my thoughts aloud. I am afraid; the gunners are getting very impatient." Tempest saw the captain pacing the deck, and the vessels were getting so close together that it looked as if the American intended to board the Britisher. Again Morris asked if he should fire a broadside, and again came the answer: "Not yet." The _Guerriere_ was only about half a pistol shot away. Captain Hull had restrained his excitement as long as he could. He saw how close the enemy really was. Then he was ready. The moment for which he had waited had arrived. He had drawn the Britisher into a trap by leading him to believe the American would not fight. "Now, boys, pour it into them!" he shouted with all the lung power he possessed. He stooped almost to the deck and threw his body up again, cheering the men. "Pour it into them!" he shouted again. "Hull her, boys! Hull her!" And the crew, catching up the shout, made the decks ring with the cry of "Hull her!" as they loaded and let fly again. Captain Hull gesticulated with such violence that the tight breeches of his naval uniform split from hip to knee. The effect of the broadside on the _Guerriere_ was terrific. The Britisher reeled and trembled as though in the throes of a mighty earthquake. With a tremendous crash the mizzen-mast was shot away. In a few moments Captain Dacres was told that the cockpit was filled with wounded men. The conflict was furious. There was no more delay. The firing was incessant. Stripped to the waist, and covered with the stains of powder and of blood, the gunners pulled fiercely at the gun-tackle, and wielded the rammers with frantic energy. Then the match was applied. The death-dealing bolt crashed into the hull of the enemy only a few yards distant. The ships were broadside to broadside, when the mizzen-mast of the English ship was shot away. The force of the great spar falling upon the deck made a great breach in the quarter of the ship. The Americans cheered lustily when they saw the damage done.