"But it'd only end in him sinking us.

Our pop-guns are out of it;" and they stood there, with curses in their throats--it was a cursing age, you must remember--and faces full of gloomy anger, as helpless against the Frenchman's long-range guns as seagulls on a rock.
The schooner came racing on, and rounded to with a beautiful sweep just out of reach of our guns.

Practice had made him perfect.

He knew his damnable business to the last link in the chain.
We could see his deck black with men, and presently a boat dropped neatly and came bounding towards us.
"Depress your carronades and discharge them," ordered a black-bearded young man in her, in excellent English, as they hooked on.

"If one is withdrawn, we will blow you out of the water." The guns were discharged.