ready to answer
them when the word should be given. From below came the gunner's mate
to report himself ready for action on the main-deck and to receive his
orders.

Came another shot from the Spaniard, again across the bows of the
Swallow.

"'Tis a clear invitation to heave to," said Sir Oliver.

The skipper snarled in his fiery beard. "She has a longer range than
most Spaniards," said he. "But I'll not waste powder yet for all that.
We've none to spare."

Scarcely had he spoken when a third shot boomed. There was a splintering
crash overhead followed by a sough and a thud as the maintopmast came
hurtling to the deck and in its fall stretched a couple of men in death.
Battle was joined, it seemed. Yet Captain Leigh did nothing in a hurry.

"Hold there!" he roared to the gunner who swung his linstock at that
moment in preparation.

She was losing way as a result of that curtailment of her mainmast, and
the Spaniard came on swiftly now. At last the skipper accounted her near
enough, and gave the word with an oath. The Swallow fired her first
and last shot in that encounter. After the deafening thunder of it
and through the cloud of suffocating smoke, Sir Oliver saw the high
forecastle of the Spaniard rent open.

Master Leigh was cursing his gunner for having aimed too high. Then he
signalled to the mate to fire the culverin of which he had charge.
That second shot was to be the signal for the whole broadside from the
main-deck below. But the Spaniard anticipated them. Even as the skipper
of the Swallow signalled the whole side of the Spaniard burst into flame
and smoke.

The Swallow staggered under the blow, recovered an instant, then listed
ominously to larboard.

"Hell!" roared Leigh. "She's bilging!" and Sir Oliver saw the Spaniard
standing off again, as if satisfied with what she had done. The mate's
gun was never fired, nor was the broadside from below. Indeed that
sudden list had set the muzzles pointing to the sea; within three
minutes of it they were on a level with the water. The Swallow had
received her death-blow, and she was settling down.

Satisfied that she could do no further harm, the Spaniard luffed and
hove to, awaiting the obvious result and intent upon picking up what
slaves she could to man the galleys of his Catholic Majesty on the
Mediterranean.

Thus the fate intended Sir Oliver by Lionel was to be fulfilled; and it
was to be shared by Master Leigh himself, which had not been at all