At length, about three bells, that is to say half-past nine-o'clock, in the forenoon watch, the skipper of the brig seemed to have made up his mind to a definite course of action, for he suddenly put up his helm, squared away, and came running straight down for us.  Whereupon we in the schooner at once went to quarters, cast loose the guns, opened the powder magazine, and got a good supply of ammunition up on deck, at the same time hoisting our colours.  The stranger, apparently, was not quite so willing as ourselves to display the hue of his bunting; at all events we saw none.  But this might have been due to the fact that his gaff-end was obscured from our view by the spread of his topsails.  When about half a mile to windward of us the brig, which we could now see was a most beautiful craft, suddenly rounded-to, clewed up her courses and royals, hauled down her flying-jib, and, throwing open her ports, let fly her whole broadside of 9-pounders at us, the shot humming close over our heads and considerably cutting up our rigging.  And at the same instant a great black flag went soaring aloft to her gaff-end!