The pirates cheered when they saw that the shot had taken effect, "Hurrah! hurrah!  Fire away again, Silva; fire away!" they shouted. Thus encouraged, he continued firing as fast as the guns could be loaded.  Shot after shot was discharged.  Still the pursuer came on as proudly and gallantly as before.  Now and then a shot was fired from her bow chasers; but the difficulty of taking anything like an aim in such a sea was very great, and they generally flew excessively wide of their mark.  Silva, indeed, after the first shot, had but little to boast of as a marksman.  His anger seemed to rise.  He looked with a fierce glance at our pursuer.  Both the guns were loaded.  He stooped down to one and fired; then, scarcely looking up to watch the result, he went to the other.  The schooner was sinking into a sea; as she rose to the summit of the next, a shot left the muzzle of the gun.  Away it winged its flight above the foaming ocean.  Now the pirates cheered more lustily than ever.  Good cause had they.  As if by magic, the wide cloud of canvas which had lately towered above the deck of the corvette seemed dissolved in air.  The race is not always to the swift, nor does Fortune always favour the best cause.  The pirate's shot had cut the corvette's fore-topmast completely in two, and we could see it with its tangled mass of spars, and sails, and rigging hanging over the bows, and still further stopping the ship's way.