while minute by minute
the English vessel was getting more helpless.

"Well, gentlemen, what's it to be?" said Joe, as he stood coolly wiping
the blackened perspiration from his forehead.

"Keep on firing to the last," said the doctor sternly. "Better die like
men than surrender and be murdered, for after what has passed there can
be no mercy here."

"That's right, sir," said the man, "but there's the young gentlemen, and
we don't any of us want to die if we can help it."

"Why, you are not beaten, are you, Joe?" cried Rodd fiercely.

"Not a bit of it, sir, but here's our schooner, and there's Mr Morny's
brig. It's no use to make an ugly face over a nasty dose. We are
beaten, and nothing that we could do could keep that slaver from seeing
that she's won."

"Go on firing, and sink her," cried Rodd. "Look at the other one," and
he pointed to the three-master, whose decks looked as if they were
awash.

"Well, sir, that's what we have been trying to do; but she won't sink.
How so be, here goes, my lad, for another try, and--What's the meaning
of that?"

For all at once through the smoke that rose from the schooner they could
see that something fresh had taken place--what, they could not make out,
but it was something important, and one of the enemy's smaller guns was
fired in the other direction.

"Why, there must be help coming from down the river," cried the doctor
excitedly. "Yes, hark at that!"

For in reply to the schooner's gun a desultory series of musket shots
began to ring out, and encouraged by this and the knowledge that help
must be at hand, the little English crew sent forth a cheer, dragged the
long gun more and more round, and sent one of the most successful shots
they had fired crash into the enemy's stern.

To the astonishment of all, the firing on board the enemy ceased;
another sail was run up, and as it filled the schooner swung round upon
another tack and began to sail steadily down the river, clearing the way
for those on board the English vessel to see a couple of well-manned
boats being rowed steadily up-stream, with men in the stern-sheets
keeping up a musketry fire.

"Quick!" shouted Moray. "Another shot! Friends! Friends!"

"Yes, sir," said Joe quietly, "but I don't see how it's to be done.
Yes, we might do it from a little gun;" and he ran with a part of the
crew to try and slew her round.

"No good, gentlemen," he said. "By the time we can get a shot off we
shall ris