288 CORY
Her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to
spread more sail. On canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets came
like hail.
Sore smitten were both captains, and many lads beside, And still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried. A sail-clad spar came napping down athwart a blazing
gun; We could not quench the rushing flames, and so the
Frenchman won.
Our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all
aglow; Men hung upon the taffrail half scorched, but loth
to go; Our captain sat where once he stood, and would not
quit his chair. He bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him
bleeding there.
The guns were hushed on either side, the Frenchmen
lowered boats, They flung us planks and hencoops, and everything
that floats. They risked their lives, good fellows ! to bring their
rivals aid. 'Twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely
made.
La Surveillante was like a sieve ; the victors had no rest. They had to dodge the east wind to reach the port of Brest.
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