y of which
their respective crews were capable. They were keeping all the time
directly before the wind, and within hailing distance of each other. In
that short period great had been the carnage on both sides. One of the
English lieutenants and two midshipmen, besides a dozen men or more, had
been killed, and half as many again had been wounded; while the bulwarks
of the lately trim frigate were shattered and torn, her crew begrimed
with powder, perspiration, and blood, and her white decks slippery with
gore, torn up with shot, and covered with fragments from the yards and
the rent woodwork around. The mainmast, too, had been severely wounded;
and though some of the carpenter's crew were busy in lashing and
otherwise strengthening it, great fears were felt for its safety.

"If that goes," exclaimed Paul Pringle, who saw the accident, "those
rascally Monsieurs will get off after all!"

At about half-past six the _Belle Citoyenne_ hauled up about eight
points from the wind, thus increasing her distance from the _Ruby_.

"I thought how it would be!" exclaimed Paul Pringle when he saw the
manoeuvre. "The Monsieurs can't stand our fire. Wing him, boys, wing
him! Don't let the Frenchman get away from us. Here, Billy, you come
here. You all know that there isn't a better eye in the ship. Let him
have a shot, boys."

True Blue, thus summoned, sprang with delight to the gun. The mass of
smoke which hung round them, and the death of the officer in charge of
his division, enabled Paul to accomplish his object without question.

"Now steady, Billy, as you love me, boy!" he exclaimed in his eagerness.

True Blue had not far to stoop as he took the lanyard of the lock in his
hand and looked carefully along the gun. The _Ruby_ had herself hauled
up a little. For an instant there was a cessation of firing. Billy at
that moment pulled the trigger. The Frenchmen were in the very act of
bracing up the mizen-topsail-yard when the mizen-mast was seen to bend
over to starboard, and, with a crash, to come toppling down overboard,
shot away a few feet only above the deck.

"You did it--you did it, Billy, my boy!" exclaimed Paul Pringle, almost
beside himself with joy, seizing his godson in his arms and giving him a
squeeze which would have pressed the breath out of a slighter body.

"Who fired that last shot?" asked the Captain from aft.

"True Blue, sir--Billy Freeborn!" cried Paul Pringle.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted