The elephant gun popped and
the rifle cracked in the _Agra's_ mizen top, and the man at the pirate's
helm jumped into the air and fell dead: both Theorists claimed him. Then
the three carronades peppered him hotly; and he hurled an iron shower
back with fatal effect. Then at last the long eighteen-pounders on the
gun-deck got a word in. The old Niler was not the man to miss a vessel
alongside in a quiet sea: he sent two round shot clean through him; the
third splintered his bulwark and swept across his deck.
"His masts--fire at his masts!" roared Dodd to Monk, through his trumpet.
He then got the jib clear, and made what sail he could without taking all
the hands from the guns.
This kept the vessels nearly alongside a few minutes, and the fight was
hot as fire. The pirate now for the first time hoisted his flag. It was
black as ink. His crew yelled as it rose: the Britons, instead of
quailing, cheered with fierce derision; the pirate's wild crew of yellow
Malays, black chinless Papuans, and bronzed Portuguese, served their side
guns, twelve-pounders, well, and with ferocious cries.
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