I had not allowed myself to look at the enemy, but kept my eyes on the course that we might not lose a single inch; yet when Seth Hartley insisted that we were gaining I could not resist the temptation to glance over my shoulder, and that which I saw put new heart into me. If the brig had been holding her own she should have been directly abreast of us, whereas, short though the time had been, her jib-boom was no more than on even terms with our stern. As I gazed she yawned again to fire another shot, and then I could see why we were showing our heels so handily, for she must have lost a good ten yards in order to send after us a missile that flew even wider than the others. “Don’t leave me, lads! For Heaven’s sake, don’t leave me tied up in this fashion so that I can’t move so much as a finger!” came from the cuddy, and it was not needed one should look down at the prisoner in order to know that he was half dead with fear. “Don’t fret yourself about our leavin’ anythin’ like you!” Sam cried. “We’ll take precious good care of your body, Luther Stedman, till we can put it in the custody of those who don’t change their coats with every turn of the tide; but we feel it our solemn duty to run away from your red-coated friends yonder in order to save ourselves from bein’ shocked by such woeful waste of powder an’ ball.” “Don’t crow, Sam,” I said earnestly. “We’re not out of the woods yet, an’ the next shot may send us to the bottom!” “They’ll have to get new spectacles for their gunners before anythin’ like that can happen,” the lad cried joyously as a shot passed high over our heads. “This little craft has run around the whole fleet, an’ it’ll be odd if she can’t get the best of a measly brig like that yonder!” I hope I shan’t be accused of drawing the long bow when I say that the enemy sent no less than ten more missiles at us, and never once came near enough to make a fellow wink; but such is the truth, as can be testified to by more than one. The brig continued to fire as long as we were within range; but owing to the distance she lost in so doing, we were soon so far ahead that the shot struck astern, and in half an hour from the time we were first under fire the little Swiftsure was sending the spray over her bow as if she enjoyed the wetting, while the lumbering brig was no more than a dark smudge in our wake. CHAPTER XVIII. A STRONG SWIMMER. That we had come out of the muddle in a marvelously fortunate manner, goes without saying, and I question if there is another craft of the Swiftsure’s size that has run away from a full-rigged brig in such a short space of time. It was something to crow over, for we lads had built the gallant little sloop from keel to masthead, with never a person to aid or advise, and had good right to feel proud at walking away from the Britisher at such a pace.