ung his hands in dreadful indecision, not knowing what to do;
he dared not lay hands upon his superior officer, yet this combat must
cease. But the fierce sword-play, both men being masters of the
weapon, as was the habit of gentlemen of that day, was suddenly
interrupted.

CHAPTER XVIII

_Duty Wins the Game_

A booming roar came down upon them from the frigate, which had fired a
broadside, which was followed presently by the whistling of shot over
their heads. Great rents were seen in the canvas, pieces of running
gear fell to the deck, there was a crashing, rending sound, and a part
of the rail, left standing abaft the mizzen shrouds, smashed into
splinters and drove inboard under the impact of a heavy shot.

One splinter struck the man at the helm in the side; he fell with a
shriek, and lay white and still by the side of the wheel, which, no
longer restrained by his hand, spun round madly. Another splinter hit
the sword of Talbot, breaking the blade and sweeping it from his hands,
and the unlucky scrap of paper was blown into the sea. The spanker
sheet was cut in two, and the boom swept out to windward, knocking one
of the men overboard. There was neither time nor opportunity to pick
him up, and he went to his death unheeded.

Seymour dropped his sword, every instinct of a sailor aroused, and
sprang to the horse-block. The ship, left to itself, fell off rapidly
before the wind. Bentley jumped to seize the helm.

"Flow the head sheets there!" cried the lieutenant; "lively! Aft here
and haul in the spanker! Brail up the foresail! Down, hard down with
the helm!"

There was another broadside from the heavy guns of the frigate. Talbot
replied with his stern-chaser, and a cloud of splinters showed that the
shot took effect, whereat the men at the gun cheered and loaded, and
then crash went the mizzen topgallant mast above their heads!

"Lively, men!" shouted Seymour, "we must get on the wind again or we
are lost."

"Breakers on the starboard bow!" shrieked the lookout on the forecastle
suddenly. "Breakers on the port bow!" His voice ran aft in a shrill
scream, fraught with terror, "Breakers ahead!"

"Down, hard down with the helm, Bentley," said Seymour, himself
springing over to assist the old man at the wheel.

But Bentley raised his hand and kept the wheel steady. "Too late, sir,
for that," he cried, "we are in the pass. God help us now, sir. Mr.
Seymour, look to the ship, sir, look t