As a last hope, the lugger's course was changed, and she
again tried running, but the superior weight and power of the frigate
brought her rapidly down. Presently a heavy gun boomed out, and a shot
came dancing along the water, a hundred yards away.
"Lower the sails," the skipper said. "It is no use going farther. The
inside of a prison is better than the bottom of the sea, anyhow."
Down came the sails, and the lugger lay rolling heavily in the waves,
as the frigate bore down upon her with a white roll of water on her
stem.
"Get ready, lads," the skipper said. "There is just one chance yet. She
will run by us. The instant she is past, up sail again. We shall be a
mile away before they can get her round into the wind again. If she
doesn't cripple us with her shot, we may weather her yet. We needn't
mind the cutter."
The frigate came foaming along, the crew busy in taking sail off her.
The instant she had passed, and was preparing to round to, the sails of
the lugger flew up like magic, and she was soon tearing along almost in
the eye of the wind, as if to meet the cutter, which was running down
towards her.
"Down below, lads, every man of you," the captain shouted. "We shall
have a broadside in a minute.
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