ring the impending action, keeping on
upon his course, and leaving us in the schooner to deal with the
intruder.

Our preparations were soon complete, but none too soon; for, approaching
each other as we were at a good pace, the space between the brigantine
and ourselves narrowed very rapidly. Nevertheless there was time, when
all was done, to say a few words to the men; so, as I anticipated that
the struggle upon which we were about to engage would be a tough one, I
called them aft and said--

"My lads, you have all heard of the atrocious pirate Morillo who haunts
these waters; you have heard something of his doings from those poor
fellows belonging to the _Wyvern_ who were picked up by us when we were
searching for the _Althea's_ boats, and you saw for yourselves a
specimen of his handiwork in the blazing hull of the _Kingston Trader_,
the unfortunate crew of which ship only too probably perished with her.
The scoundrel and his gang of cold-blooded murderers are aboard that
brigantine; and after what you have heard and seen, I need not tell you
what is likely to be the fate of any of us, or of those aboard the
_Dolores_, should we be so unfortunate as to fall into their hands.
They are undoubtedly about to attempt the capture of the Spaniard. Now,
it is for _you_ to say whether they shall do so, or whether you will
send them all to the bottom of the sea instead. Which is it to be,
men?"

"Put us alongside of her, Mr Courtenay, sir, and we'll soon show you--
and them too--which it's to be," answered one of the men, the rest
instantly corroborating the remark by such exclamations as, "Ay, ay;
we'll give 'em their gruel, never fear."

"Well spoke, Tommy; true for you, my son," and so on.

"Very well," said I, "that is the answer I expected. Now go to your
guns, men; and see that you make every shot tell."

While clearing for action we had also made sail and shot ahead of the
_Dolores_; and within five minutes of the moment when the crew went back
to their guns, we were within half a mile of the brigantine, which craft
was then crossing our bows, tearing through the long, low swell like a
racing yacht, with a storm of diamond spray flashing up over her weather
bow at every graceful plunge of her into the trough. She was a
beautiful vessel, long and low, with enormously taunt, raking masts and
a phenomenal spread of canvas--a craft well worth fighting for; and I
thought what a proud day it would be for me if pe