"I fear," replied the old tar, "that your poor old father has received a shot between wind and water; but never mind, my boy; while I can stand I'll never flinch; it shall never be said that ould Bill Jones flinched from his post in the hour of danger; and mind, my boy, Tom, if I fall, never surrender to a rascally Frenchman, but fight it out; be sure to keep him off, and there is no fear. Never yield, Tom!" The old tar, quite exhausted by his exertions and by loss of blood, dropped down upon the deck; but, notwithstanding the solicitations of his son and the crew, he persisted in not being carried below. They, therefore, wrapped a boat cloak around him, and laid him along the deck, with his head supported against a coil of rope. Tom now took the command, and it required all his exertions and skill to save him from the privateer; for the crew of the _Tweed_, regardless of everything else, had been looking at their commander like persons stupified, allowing the vessel to go as she pleased. The Frenchman had perceived their confusion, and was pressing on to take advantage of it; and the crew of the _Tweed_ could perceive the men clustering along the yards as thick as bees. Tom, however, again passed him without allowing the Frenchman to board; but, unfortunately, the broadside which was poured into the _Tweed_ shot away the jib-hal-yards, and the large sail came down into the water. Three cheers from the Frenchmen followed this accident, which promised them a certain victory; for not only was the smack deprived of the assistance of the jib in sailing, but the dragging of the sail through the water impeded materially her progress. All now seemed lost, when Tom, resigning the helm to one of the men, sprung forward; and, seizing hold of the end of the halyards, mounted the rigging, and, in spite of the showers of shot fired at him from the Frenchman's tops, succeeded in again reeving it through the block; and, by the assistance of the wynch, the jib again rose to its former place. The Frenchman, thus baffled in all his attempts, resolved to make a last effort; and, crowding all sail, came rapidly upon the weather or starboard quarter. "Ready about!" sung out Tom; and, as the smack shot up head to the wind, he gave the order to fire--which order was no sooner obeyed than a dreadful shriek rose from the privateer; and the first sight which greeted the eyes of the _Tweed_'s crew after the smoke had cleared, was their enemy, standing away before the wind under a press of sail. Simultaneous cheers burst from the lips of the men, as they beheld this not less pleasing than unexpected sight, and they were joined by old Bill, who, weak and faint as he was, raised his hand, and cheered with his crew. "We've given him a parting salute," said Bill Mossman, grinning with delight, through a face all begrimed with powder and smoke. "My eye, only look there!--he seems to be in as great a hurry as a dog with a kettle at his tail."