vier and therefore
more immediately dangerous of their two opponents, volleyed upon her
jointly at almost the same moment.

Unlike the buccaneers, who had fired high to cripple their enemies above
decks, the French fifed low to smash the hull of their assailant. The
Arabella rocked and staggered under that terrific hammering, although
Pitt kept her headed towards the French so that she should offer the
narrowest target. For a moment she seemed to hesitate, then she plunged
forward again, her beak-head in splinters, her forecastle smashed, and a
gaping hole forward, that was only just above the water-line. Indeed,
to make her safe from bilging, Blood ordered a prompt jettisoning of the
forward guns, anchors, and water-casks and whatever else was moveable.

Meanwhile, the Frenchmen going about, gave the like reception to the
Elizabeth. The Arabella, indifferently served by the wind, pressed
forward to come to grips. But before she could accomplish her object,
the Victorieuse had loaded her starboard guns again, and pounded her
advancing enemy with a second broadside at close quarters. Amid the
thunder of cannon, the rending of timbers, and the screams of maimed
men, the half-necked Arabella plunged and reeled into the cloud of smoke
that concealed her prey, and then from Hayton went up the cry that she
was going down by the head.

Blood's heart stood still. And then in that very moment of his despair,
the blue and gold flank of the Victorieuse loomed through the smoke.
But even as he caught that enheartening glimpse he perceived, too, how
sluggish now was their advance, and how with every second it grew more
sluggish. They must sink before they reached her.

Thus, with an oath, opined the Dutch Admiral, and from Lord Willoughby
there was a word of blame for Blood's seamanship in having risked all
upon this gambler's throw of boarding.

"There was no other chance!" cried Blood, in broken-hearted frenzy. "If
ye say it was desperate and foolhardy, why, so it was; but the occasion
and the means demanded nothing less. I fail within an ace of victory."

But they had not yet completely failed. Hayton himself, and a score of
sturdy rogues whom his whistle had summoned, were crouching for shelter
amid the wreckage of the forecastle with grapnels ready. Within seven or
eight yards of the Victorieuse, when their way seemed spent, and their
forward deck already awash under the eyes of the jeering, cheering
Frenchmen, those men