as they drew near the shore, the cliffs appeared
fringed with a blaze of fire, which opened down upon them.

Still undaunted, Linton pushed on: the boats were occasionally hit, but
no one was wounded. The mistico again tacked; but she found the wind
more scant than she had probably expected, and she consequently fell
off, and instead of having the English boats on her starboard side, she
passed astern of them, unable to fire, so close were both parties
together, without an equal chance of injuring her own friends. The same
cause also prevented the people on the cliffs from keeping up the hot
fire they might otherwise have done; for in the darkness of night it was
difficult to distinguish the position of the English boats, in
consequence of their carefully abstaining from firing. Linton and his
followers were almost up with the sternmost of the pirate boats when the
lofty cliffs opened, as it seemed, by magic--the enemy disappeared in
the narrow opening, and, as they were boldly pushing after them, they
found a thick chain drawn across the passage, and at the same time a
blaze of fire opened from the broadside of the brig, moored across it.

"Back your larboard oars, pull up your starboard oars, my men," shouted
Linton. "We are in a trap--must give it up, or be knocked to pieces,
I'm afraid. Let all the boats pull to the south-west as fast as they
can till we are out of the range of their guns."

It was, indeed, time for the British to retire; for besides the big guns
and swivels of the brig, every accessible point of the cliffs above
their head appeared covered with musketry, and several heavy pieces sent
forth their messengers of destruction from beneath the walls of the
castle. Never were boats perhaps exposed to a hotter fire--to penetrate
into the harbour was utterly impossible, and the probability of their
escaping was small indeed.

"Pull on--pull for your lives, my men," shouted the young lieutenant, as
the boats' heads came round, and their crews endeavoured to escape from
the showers of round shot and bullets, which dashed the water up on
every side of them, wounding several, and sending more than one brave
heart to its last account.

"We shall do yet, my men. We'll pay the villains off for this!" he
shouted. "Oh, Heaven! They've done for me. Take the helm, Duff, and
tell Mr Tompion--"

He spoke in a low tone, and before he finished the sentence he sunk down
at the bottom of the boat.

CH