Rushing at the head of his men into the fight, Captain Risk engaged two seamen, and with cutlass in one hand and pistol in the other, he shot one through the shoulder and sent the other reeling to the deck with a cutlass stroke on his head. Being now pressed on all sides, Risk rushed with a match to the companion-way to throw it into the magazine; but he was shot in the forehead and killed before he could accomplish his object. The Americans, now officerless, were forced upon the quarter-deck; the crew was overpowered from all sides, and the colors hauled down by the enemy. But the victory was dearly bought by the English. In this last encounter twenty Englishmen were killed and thirty-two wounded.
Among those that were wounded was Barclugh. When Captain Risk rushed upon the two seamen that were advancing upon him, the one that he shot in the shoulder was Barclugh. Faint with the loss of blood, and stunned by the shock, Barclugh crawled very humbly back into his boat, and sat there until he was carried to the sloop. He was not fatally hurt, but his arm pained him severely.
When the sloop was reached, Barclugh got aboard without the assistance of his mates, but, once below, he crawled to his cabin door. He found William Atkinson soundly asleep, snoring like a porpoise blowing. When he awoke the man-o’-war’s man, Atkinson exclaimed:
“Lor’ bless me, sir, you’re shot! I was dreamin’ how’s somethin’ was happenin’ to you, sir. So let me ’elp you to bed and get you some water or brandy. Here, let me get on my own clothes, as I am sure to be blamed for these ’appenin’s.
“That’s it,—off with the blouse and trousers. I’m into them in a jiffy. You’ll be better now, as you lie down a bit.”
“Atkinson,” requested Barclugh feebly, “you will find some brandy in the locker there,—give me a little.”
“Ah, yes, sir. I was trying a wee bit in your absence, sir. It’s werry good.
“Here you are,” continued the jacky. “Take that. Now lie down sir, and I’ll go and notify the captain, sir. But before I go, sir, I wants to leave these guineas with you. For, as you ’ad the trouble to get shot in my place, I can’t take your money.” But when Atkinson looked at Barclugh, he saw that he was unconscious, so, putting the money under the pillow, he hastened on deck.
There every one was busy. Groans, curses, the dead laid out in rows on the forecastle deck,—the wounded placed aboard the Roebuck’s boats,—commands for cutters’ crews to man their boats, confronted Atkinson on every hand. When his ensign ordered the crew of Atkinson’s cutter to give way on the oars, he was at his station, and poor Barclugh was left unattended in his cabin.
Every circumstance now turned against Barclugh and his plans.