In less than two minutes' time their craft was put about and went flying
before the wind, under a full stretch of canvas. The boat impelled by
eight stout oarsmen pressed hard in their wake.

"Heave to! heave to!" cried an officer in the pursuing boat. "Heave to,
or we will fire on you!"

"Niver mind him, me frind," said Terrence to the man at the rudder.
"I'll tell ye when to lay low."

They were in long musket shot distance, and Williams assured them that
if they could round a headland, they would get a stiffer breeze and
outsail their pursuer.

"Are they gaining on us?" Fernando asked.

"Not much, if any," was the response.

Again the officer in the bow, making a speaking trumpet of his hands,
shouted:

"Heave to, or I swear I'll fire on you!"

"To the divil with you," roared Terrence. "We've downed one redcoat in
fair light; what more do ye want, bad luck to ye?"

The officer spoke to some one behind him, and a musket was handed him.

Terrence sprang to the stern saying: