The great patient ship ran environed by her foes; one destroyer right in
her course, another in her wake, following her with yells of vengeance,
and pounding away at her--but no reply.

Suddenly the yells of the pirates on both sides ceased, and there was a
moment of dead silence on the sea.

Yet nothing fresh had happened.

Yes, this had happened: the pirates to windward, and the pirates to
leeward, of the _Agra_, had found out, at one and the same moment, that
the merchant captain they had lashed, and bullied, and tortured, was a
patient but tremendous man. It was not only to rake the fresh schooner
he had put his ship before the wind, but also by a double, daring,
master-stroke to hurl his monster ship bodily on the other. Without a
foresail she could never get out of his way. Her crew had stopped the
leak, and cut away and unshipped the broken foremast, and were stepping a
new one, when they saw the huge ship bearing down in full sail. Nothing
easier than to slip out of her way could they get the foresail to draw;
but the time was short, the deadly intention manifest, the coming
destruction swift. After that solemn silence came a storm of cries and
curses, as their seamen went to work to fit the yard and raise the sail;
while their fighting men seized their matchlocks and trained the guns.
They were well commanded by an heroic able villian. Astern the consort
thundered; but the _Agra's_ response was a dead silence more awful than
broadsides.

For then was seen with what majesty the enduring Anglo-Saxon fights.