At that moment a second respiration of the atmosphere gave birth to the
breeze. Raoul whistled for the wind, and the lugger moved ahead, gliding
toward the frigate. But in half a minute she had gathered sufficient
way, her helm was put down, and she came round as easily and as
gracefully as the bird turns on his wing. Not so with the heavier
frigate. She had hauled in her starboard head-braces and had to get the
foretopsail aback, and to pay well off with her head to leeward, in
order to swing her yards and fill her sails, while le Feu-Follet was
slipping through the water, going seemingly into the wind's eye. By this
single evolution the lugger gained more than a cable's length on her
enemy, and five minutes more would have put her beyond all immediate
danger. But Captain Cuffe knew this as well as his competitor, and had
made his preparations accordingly. Keeping his head-yards aback, he
knocked his ship round off, until her broadside bore on the lugger, when
he let fly every gun of his starboard batteries, the utmost care having
been taken to make the shot tell. Twenty-two heavy round-shot coming in
at once upon a little craft like le Feu-Follet was a fearful visitation,
and the "boldest held their breath for a time" as the iron whirlwind
whistled past them. Fortunately the lugger was not hulled; but a grave
amount of mischief was done aloft. The jigger-mast was cut in two and
flew upward like a pipe-stem. A serious wound was given to the mainmast
below the hounds, and the yard itself was shivered in the slings.
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