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." In a moment, the deck was clear of all save the skipper and his mate, who stood at the tiller.

The frigate swept slowly round, and then, as her guns came to bear, shot after shot was fired at the lugger, already three-quarters of a mile to the windward.