But there was the third Britisher, a brig, which Tempest had not taken much notice of. Suddenly the young officer shouted to the captain: "A merchantman!" "Where away?" "Being convoyed by the war ships." It was true. The third vessel was a rich merchantman, which had been traveling under the protection of the men-of-war. By some miscalculation she had drifted away from her escort, and was practically defenseless. "If we can't take her we can make her valueless," said Tempest. "Do you think so?" "Let me try." "The _Lively Bee_ is at your service." Lieutenant Tempest stepped forward. "Clear away the long gun. We'll fire one shot, anyway." The men were delighted, although it looked like a piece of impudence and folly. "Load carefully. I will sight the gun myself," said Tempest. The men in the sweeps watched the action and awaited commands. "Avast pulling!" The oars rested. The _Lively Bee_ drifted over the smooth water. Tempest took very deliberate sights. Then, when satisfied, he stepped back from the breech. "Fire!" The shot went skimming through the air, and struck the merchantman in the waist. The British warships heard the report, and seemed astounded at the sauciness of the little _Lively Bee_. Such impudence could not be allowed to go unpunished. But Tempest had no intention of being caught just then. "Give way, boys, in those sweeps! Make all you can." The crew did pull with all their might, and the _Lively Bee_ seemed to fly over the water. The _Frolic_ fired a broadside at the privateer, but all the ammunition was wasted, as the _Lively Bee_ was out of range. Another shot was fired at the merchantman, and her mainmast went over with an awful crash. "Now we must run for it, but it does seem a pity," said Captain Vernon. "Do not be in too great a hurry." The long gun was loaded again, and a third shot went raking the deck of the unfortunate vessel. "Look out; we are in for squalls now!" shouted Vernon. And almost within a pistol shot was the _Frolic's_ long boat, with a crew of boarders. "Beat to quarters!" shouted Vernon. He was only just in time. The daring Britishers clambered up the chains, they swung themselves into the rigging, and gained the deck of the _Lively Bee_ with astonishing alertness. Headed by their officers, the crew of the privateer clutched their cutlasses with firm grip, and met the invaders. It was a terrible fight. Confined within the small space of the deck of the schooner, four dozen men were cutting and slashing at each other with savage fury. Lieutenant Smith of the _Frolic_ was wounded dangerously almost the minute he landed. The deck was covered with blood. So many men were killed that their bodies became a menace and a danger to the living, who fell over them and endangered their lives. Tempest had struck terrifically at one of the British, but missed because the man stepped back, and the privateer's way was blocked by a dead body.