"There goes a shot, sir," said Buzzby, pointing towards the piratical
schooner, from the side of which a white cloud burst, and a round shot
ricochetted over the sea, passing close ahead of the ship.

"Ay, that's a request for us to lay-to," said the captain bitterly, "but
we won't. Keep her away a point."

"Ay, ay, sir," sung out the man at the wheel. A second and a third shot
were fired, but passed unheeded, and the captain, fully expecting that
the next would be fired into them, ordered the men below.

"We can't afford to lose a man, Mr. Thompson; send them all down."

"Please, sir, may I remain?" said Buzzby, touching his hat.

"Obey orders," answered the captain sternly. The sailor went below with
a sulky fling.

For nearly an hour the two vessels cut through the water before a steady
breeze, during which time the fast-sailing schooner gradually overhauled
the heavy West Indiaman, until she approached within speaking distance.
Still Captain Ellice paid no attention to her, but stood with compressed
lips beside the man at the wheel, gazing alternately at the sails of his
vessel and at the windward horizon, where he fancied he saw indications
that led him to hope the breeze would fail ere long.

As the schooner drew nearer, a man leaped on the hammock-nettings, and,
putting a trumpet to his mouth, sang out lustily, "Ship ahoy! where are
you from, and what's your cargo?"