ner, right willingly, as he hurried to
perform his duty.

She did not seem to regard the second shot with more respect than the
first. There was now no doubt that she was a smuggler, and that she
knew her to be a royal cruiser, but whether the _Kitty_ or not still
remained to be discovered. We accordingly, without ceremony, set to
work in earnest to make her a target for our shot; but though we
believed that we hulled her several times, we could not manage to knock
away any of her rigging or spars. Fast as we fancied the _Serpent_, the
chase, whatever she was, could, we soon found, show as fleet a pair of
heels; and this made us doubly anxious to wing her, lest, by the fog
coming down thicker, she might disappear altogether. Not a sound was
heard from her except the sharp pat as our shot at intervals struck her;
nor did she offer other than the passive resistance of refusing to
heave-to. At last, so faint was her outline as she glided onwards on
our starboard bow, that I could scarcely help fancying that we were
attacking a mere unsubstantial phantom. It was only from the large size
she appeared to be, that one could judge of her nearness to us. For
some minutes we ran on without a syllable being uttered, except the
necessary words of command for loading and firing the guns.

"Now let me see if I can hit the fellow," exclaimed Hanks, growing
impatient at our want of success; and stooping down and taking a steady
look along the gun, he fired. A fearful shriek was the answer sent back
from the lugger's deck. She was standing on as before, her rigging
untouched, and her hull apparently unharmed. That sound must have been
the death-cry of some of her crew. An almost solemn silence followed,
and then, as if slumbering hitherto, the fury of the smugglers burst
forth, and a shower of shot from great guns and musketry came flying
about us. It was evident that she was prepared to resist to the last.
We now found that we had been under-rating her strength. Our two other
guns were run over to the starboard side, the small-arms were got up on
deck and loaded, and cutlasses were buckled on, and all hands not
required to work the guns began blazing away with the muskets.

"How do you like the smell of gunpowder, my boy?" asked Hanks, as he was
driving down his ramrod.

"As for the smell, I can't say that I have any objection to it," I
replied, laughing; "and for the shot, they don't seem likely to do us
much harm."