His next utterance was much louder. "George!" he shouted. "There goes my bowsprit! The jolly-boat's knocked into matchwood! I declare! There's a hole in the mains'l! Is anybody hurt?" "Not a man, sir!" shouted back Fletcher, cheerfully. "We'll give it to 'em!" The brig had been already going about, and her other broadside was as well directed as the first. It would have been bad for the _Noank_ but for her heavy timbers and the lightness of Tracy's metal. She was hulled in three places, and there was a ragged split in her foresail. It did not prevent her going about, however, and her next trio of iron messengers were as well aimed as were the Englishman's. "They hulled us, sir," reported the _Arran's_ sailing-master. "No great harm. Three men hurt by splinters. The after rigging's cut a bit. We must finish that chap, sir." "That cursed long gun o' theirs!" growled Tracy, fiercely. "Captain Syme told me, and I hardly believed him. That's what may play the mischief with us. I wish we were at broadsides with her." That was precisely the advantage which Captain Avery did not intend to give him, right away, and the _Arran_, losing her bowsprit, was not by any means so difficult to keep away from or to outmanoeuvre. Slowly, carefully, Up-na-tan had again sighted his gun and measured his distance. It was tantalizing to watch him as he doggedly refused to throw away a shot. "Ugh! Whoo-oop!" he yelled, as his lanyard touched the priming of his gun. "Now see! Ole chief take 'em aft!" "I wish he'd do as well for one end of her as he did for the other," muttered the captain. "He's done it, sir!" exclaimed Guert, for he had borrowed the captain's telescope. "That Indian's a gunner!" said Groot, with emphasis. "I never saw one to beat him. I've seen pretty good marksmen, too." The peculiar accuracy of eye born in or acquired by the old red man was a disastrous gift for the British revenue brig. Almost too far aft did the shot hit her, but in it went, and all her rudder gear was useless in a second of time. She could no longer answer her wheel, and began to lurch about at the mercy of wind and wave. Fierce indeed were the execrations of her helpless officers and crew. All their courage and seamanship were of no use, now. Their guns might as well have been made of wood, and their jaunty brig had become as clumsy and unmanageable as a raft. Moreover, the terrible American was speeding nearer, and only a few minutes went by before there came a loud-voiced demand for her surrender to the-- "United States armed cruiser _Noank_, Captain Lyme Avery." "His Britannic Majesty's brig _Arran_, Lieutenant Tracy. We surrender, of course. You could sink us as we are now. All the luck's yours." "We'll come alongside," said Avery. "I wish I had a right to board him when he comes," growled Tracy, as his flag came down. "There'd be some satisfaction in that."