"They've got a gun astern there!" he shouted. "They'll try our range in
a minute." Hardly had he spoken when a spout of foam went up from the
sea far to starboard, followed almost instantly by the dull sound of an
explosion. By the time the gunners on the ship had loaded their piece
again the _James_ had come over to their port quarter and they had to
shift the cannon's position. The shot went close overhead, cutting a
corner from the black flag of the pirate. Bonnet swore beneath his
breath, then ordered the cannoneers below to their batteries. They went
on the run. Jeremy and Bob stayed above watching the operations on the
enemy's deck. The two sloops were less than three hundred yards apart
and the _James_ had drawn nearly abeam when a third shot came from her
rival's deck gun. This time it crashed into the pirate's hull far up by
the bits. Bonnet was by the fore hatch, sword in hand, as was his custom
during an action. Looking coolly at the splintered bulwark forward, then
back at the enemy, he gave the sharp "Ready a starboard broadside!" to
the waiting gunners. He allowed them time to have their matches alight,
then "Fire!" rang his clear voice. The deck leaped under the boys' feet.
The long, thunderous bellow of the battery jarred out over the sea. Even
as they looked the enemy's maingaff, shot away at the jaws, dangled
loose from the peak halyards, and her broad sail crumpled, puffing out
awkwardly in the breeze.

At the same time a wide rent in her side above the waterline gaped black
as she topped a wave. The gunners' cheer as they saw their handiwork
rose to a deafening yell, taken up by all hands, when, a moment later,
the British colors came fluttering down aboard the other ship.

Herriot ordered the improvised spinnaker and the flying-jib taken in,
then brought the buccaneer sloop around and came up beside the newly
captured prize. All the pirates were behind the bulwarks with muskets
loaded, prepared for any treachery that might be intended. However, as
they ranged alongside, the hostile crew lined up on their deck, sullen
but unarmed, and the Captain, a big, gray-bearded man, held up a piece
of white cloth in token of surrender. Bonnet hailed him, asking his
name.

"Captain Peter Manewaring of the sloop _Francis,_ Philadelphia for
Charles Town," answered the coasting skipper.

"And I am Captain Thomas, in command of the sloop _Royal James,_" Bonnet
gave him in return. "You will set your men to carryin