It was not the intention of the _Cerberus_ to sink her prey. Capture at all costs was the order of the captain. There might be prisoners, and more than likely rich booty stowed underneath her hatches. Could the _Serena_ be deprived of the means of propulsion the boats of the scout would soon settle matters.
Crash! A shell striking the base of the funnel reduced it to atoms, and, tearing away a portion of the deck and bulwarks, sent a dozen of the pirates to their last account. Volumes of smoke poured through the aperture where the funnel casings had been. The yacht reeled violently, then a cloud of steam rushed upwards from her engine-room. One of the cylinders had burst, and the engines were completely disabled.
The _Serena_ swung sound, and floated motionless on the calm sea. As far as could be seen there was no sign of her sinking. Some of the men rushed for the boats, only to be driven back by Cervillo and his officers, who, revolver in hand, did not hesitate to check the rush by the strongest measures. Finding that escape was impossible, the pirates were goaded into active resistance, and, with rifles and pistols, they took refuge behind the shattered bulwarks to await the approach of the scout's boats.
The _Cerberus_ had lost way, and was lying barely half a mile on the _Serena's_ starboard quarter. Into her boats swarmed the active bluejackets, eager to add to the traditions of the Service by capturing the pirates in the good old-fashioned style.
Secretly regretting that he was not taking an active part in the boarding of the _Serena_, Drake decided not to miss a close view of the operations. So the _Mosquito_, her speed reduced until it was only just sufficient to enable her planes to resist the action of gravity, descended to a height of about two hundred feet above the sea, and hovered in circles above the crippled vessel.
So intent were the pirates upon the approach of the boats that the presence of the aerial craft was entirely forgotten. Drake could see that Cervillo was pacing the deck in an irresolute fashion. At one moment he would speak to some of the men and point to their antagonists, at another he would halt hesitatingly at the top of the companion.
