hile le Feu-Follet was
slipping through the water, going seemingly into the wind's eye. By this
single evolution the lugger gained more than a cable's length on her
enemy, and five minutes more would have put her beyond all immediate
danger. But Captain Cuffe knew this as well as his competitor, and had
made his preparations accordingly. Keeping his head-yards aback, he
knocked his ship round off, until her broadside bore on the lugger, when
he let fly every gun of his starboard batteries, the utmost care having
been taken to make the shot tell. Twenty-two heavy round-shot coming in
at once upon a little craft like le Feu-Follet was a fearful visitation,
and the "boldest held their breath for a time" as the iron whirlwind
whistled past them. Fortunately the lugger was not hulled; but a grave
amount of mischief was done aloft. The jigger-mast was cut in two and
flew upward like a pipe-stem. A serious wound was given to the mainmast
below the hounds, and the yard itself was shivered in the slings. No
less than six shot plunged through both lugs, leaving holes in the
canvas that made it resemble a beggar's shirt, and the jib-stay was cut
in two half-way between the mast-head and the end of the bowsprit. No
one was hurt, and yet for a moment every one looked as if destruction
had suddenly lighted on the lugger. Then it was that Raoul came out in
his true colors. He knew he could not spare a stitch of canvas just at
that moment, but that on the next ten minutes depended everything.
Nothing was taken in, therefore, to secure spars and sails, but all was
left to stand, trusting to the lightness of the breeze, which usually
commenced very moderately. Hands were immediately set to work to get up
a new stay; a new main-yard and sail were got along, and everything was
prepared for hoisting both as soon as it could be ascertained that the
mast would bear them. Nearly similar preparations were made forward as
the shortest way of getting rid of the torn foresail; for that it was
the intention to unbend and bend, the yard being sound.

Luckily, Captain Cuffe determined to lose no more time with his guns,
but swinging his head-yards, the frigate came sweeping up to the wind,
and in three minutes everything was trimmed for the utmost. All this
time le Feu-Follet had not stood still. Her canvas fluttered, but it
held on, and even the spars kept their places, though so much injured.
In a word, the wind was not yet strong enough to tear the