"Port!" said Dodd, calmly.

"Port it is."

The giant prow darted at the escaping pirate. That acre of coming canvas
took the wind out of the swift schooner's foresail; it flapped: oh, then
she was doomed! . . . CRASH! the Indiaman's cut-water in thick smoke beat
in the schooner's broadside: down went her masts to leeward like
fishing-rods whipping the water; there was a horrible shrieking yell;
wild forms leaped off on the _Agra_, and were hacked to pieces almost ere
they reached the deck--a surge, a chasm in the ear, filled with an
instant rush of engulfing waves, a long, awful, grating, grinding noise,
never to be forgotten in this world, all along under the ship's keel--and
the fearful majestic monster passed on over the blank she had made, with
a pale crew standing silent and awestruck on her deck; a cluster of wild
heads and staring eyeballs bobbing like corks in her foaming wake, sole
relic of the blotted-out _Destroyer_; and a wounded man staggering on the
gangway, with hands uplifted and staring eyes.




NARRATIVE OF THE MUTINY OF THE _BOUNTY_

From "Chamber's Miscellany," ANONYMOUS


About the year 1786, the merchants and planters interested in the West
India Islands became anxious to introduce an exceedingly valuable plant,
the bread-fruit tree, into these possessions, and as this could best be