Meantime, Ethelston, who had kept his eye fixed upon the headland so often mentioned, muttering to himself, “she will fetch it now,” desired the man at the helm to yaw the brig about, to throw her up now and then in the wind, so as to fall astern of the frigate as much as possible, yet not apparently varying the course. Having done so as long as he judged it practicable without awakening the enemy’s suspicion, he saw, to his inexpressible delight, the frigate shorten sail to enable him to come up; instantly seizing this advantage, he ordered his mate to put the brig about, and run for the Isle of Pines. It may well be imagined that this bold manœuvre was not many moments unperceived on board the frigate; and L’Estrange’s astonishment was great, when, from the noise overhead, and from the heeling of the ship, he found that her course was being altered. Springing on deck, he saw that he had been outwitted by the saucy brig, which was crowding all sail, and seemed not unlikely to effect her escape. The old captain chafed, and stormed, and swore that the obstinate little trader should pay dearly for her insolence. The Epervier was a fast sailer, and, as she now dashed the spray from her bows under a press of canvass, it was soon evident that the brig could not yet round the point without coming within range of her guns. Ethelston’s mind was now made up; and finding his men cheerful and inspirited by the success of his manœuvre, he yet hoped to bring his vessel into the intricate channel behind the island, where the frigate would not venture to follow: it was not long before she again saluted him; and one of the shot passing through the brig’s bulwarks, close to him, shivered the binnacle into a hundred pieces. Observing symptoms of uneasiness in the man at the helm, and that he swerved from the course, Ethelston gave him a stern reproof, and again desired Harrison to come to the helm. The frigate, which still held the weather–gage, seemed now resolved to cut off the brig from the headland, and to sink her if she attempted to weather it. Ethelston saw his full danger, and was prepared to meet it; had he commanded a vessel of war, however small, he would not have shrunk from the responsibility he was about to incur; but, remembering that his little brig was but a trader, and that the crew ought not to be exposed, without their own consent, to danger so imminent as that before them, he desired Gregson to call them aft, when he addressed them as follows: “My lads,—you see the scrape we are in: if we can round that point, we may yet escape; but to do so, we must run within a few hundred yards of the frigate’s broadside. What say you, my lads, shall we strike, or stand the chance?—a French prison, or hurrah for the Belise?” “Hurrah for the Belise,” shouted the men, animated by their young commander’s words, and by his fearless bearing; so the little brig held on her way.