"Best sink her, sir. It's not safe to send off a boat. Most likely she's heavily armed, sir." "No," said the captain, "no boat. We're short-handed, anyhow. We'll not sink her if we can help it. One thing I'm after is to overhaul her crew." "You are right, sir," laughed the lieutenant. "A shot may bring her to." There was more than one element, therefore, in the supposable value of the _Noank_, considered as the prize of the British frigate, _Clyde_. Out ran one of the latter's port guns, shotted. It was well aimed, too, whether or not it was intended mainly as a sharp command to surrender. Its heavy shot went whizzing between the schooner's raking masts, doing no actual damage, but serving as a serious warning. "A little lower!" exclaimed Captain Avery. "That was closer than I expected. Up-na-tan! Let 'em have it!" He had but just given the order to go about, and the _Noank_ was almost as good as standing still, while the red man sighted his gun. His marksmanship was a shade better, too, than that of the British gunner. Such a response, or any at all with a gun, had been utterly unexpected by all on board the _Clyde_. "Hit us?" gasped the captain. "We are struck? Was there ever such impudence! See what that is!" "The port o' th' capt'n's cab'n!" shouted a sailor. "It's mashed, sir! And 'ere comes th' wind, sir!" There had been a crash of wood and glass at the closed port-hole, and from that the Indian's iron messenger had gone on through the cabin door. All to bits flew a great swinging lantern in the saloon, and a wide gap was made in the woodwork of the state-room opposite. This had been closely packed with dinner-table delicacies, including many cases of wine. Sad work was therefore made of the costly juice of the grape, whether purchased or captured. A small flood of it, as red as blood, but not as horrible, came streaming out to tell of the bottle-breaking. "'Orrid waste, sir!" groaned the captain's steward, as he gazed upon that crimson rivulet. "'E could ha' dined the fleet on 'alf o' that. I'll not forgive they Yonkees!" "Give 'em a broadside!" roared the angry lieutenant on deck. "No!" as loudly commanded the cool and prudent captain, adding to his friend: "Not just now, my boy. Call all hands to quarters. It'll be hold hard, in a few minutes. Ease her! Ease her! Starboard your helm! Steady all! Here it comes!" He was a prime good seaman, that captain of the _Clyde_, and he was at that moment looking aloft to see his maintopsail blown to leeward. "I'm glad it went!" he exclaimed. "Good luck! since they couldn't get it in. That'll relieve the strain on the topmast. It wouldn't ha' stood it."