They cast loose the guns, removed the wing deadlights, and looked out on to a soaring green cliff of water fifty yards away with the Leopard‘s wake trace down its side. It shut out the sky, and it was racing towards them. The Leopard‘s stern rose, rose: the enormous wave passed smoothly under her counter, and there through the flying spume lay the Waakzaamheid below, running down the far slow. ‘When you please, Mr Burton,’ said Jack to the gunner. ‘A hole in her foretopsail might make it split.’ The larboard gun roared out and instantly the cabin was filled with smoke. No hole: no fall of shot either. Jack, to starboard, had the Dutchman in his dispart sight. A trifle of elevatio