The latter were the first to open the ball. A puff of smoke burst out
from the brig's bows, followed almost instantly by one from the
schooner. Both shots fell short, and, for a quarter of an hour, the
three vessels kept on their way.
"We have heavier metal than that," the captain said, cheerfully, "and
I have no doubt we could reach them. But it is not our game to play at
long bowls, for it is probable that both of them carry a long pivot
gun, and if they were to draw off a bit, they could annoy us
amazingly, while we could not reach them."
Presently the privateers opened fire again. They were now about a mile
away, and the same distance from each other. Their shot fell close to
the Indiaman, and two or three passed through her sails.
Still no reply was made. The men at the guns fidgeted, and kept
casting glances towards the poop, in expectation of an order. It came
at last, but was not what they had expected.
"Double shot your guns, men," the captain said.
Scarcely was the order obeyed when the brig, which was now on the port
quarter, luffed up a little into the wind, and fired a broadside of
eight guns. There was a crashing of wood. The Madras was hulled in
three places; two more holes appeared in her sails; while the other
shot passed harmlessly just astern of her.
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