This time I knew the
shot had struck her, but she still came on, and as she was now
below our line of fire I feared it would come to push of pike after
all. But a moment or two afterwards I rejoiced to see that she was
losing way: our shot had gone home. The other two smacks overtook
her, and then began a dropping fire of musketry from all three.
Clearly it was no longer expedient to hull them merely. Their speed
was so much superior to the brig's that even if we hit one or other
of them they might close in before their pace was much checked by
the inrush of water. Loath as I was to spill blood, I bade the
bosun now load the gun with grape, and my qualms were banished when
I heard cries of pain, and learned that Runnles and another had
been hit by musket shots. The smack that was leading was coming up
directly in our wake.
"Give it her, Bosun!" I cried.
"She shall have it," he answered, and immediately she was swept by
the grape shot from stem to stern, yells and execrations telling
that the bosun had not aimed in vain. She at once paid off before
the wind: 'twas clear the steersman had been hit; and before
another man could take his place and bring her head round the smack
behind crashed into her.
I had good hope that the chase was now ended, and we might go
rejoicing on our way to the white shores of England. But I was
reckoning without Duguay-Trouin. For a few moments we drew away
from our pursuers; but then I saw that the third smack had cleared
herself from the one she had run into and was again sailing swiftly
in our wake, having apparently suffered no injury.
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