“We looked, and there saw a great vessel looming, as large as a three-decker, coming down towards us with close-reefed topsails, but going through the water like a swordfish. At first we hoped it was one of our own; but that hope did not last long, for as she neared us we saw floating from the peak that confounded flag that never boded us good fortune. She was an English eighty-gun ship; the 'Blanche' they called her. Ventrebleu! I didn't know how they ever got so handsome a model; but, I learned after, she was a French ship, and built at Toulon,—for you see, Comrades, they never had such craft as ours. Well, down they came, as if they were about to come right over us, and never once made a signal, nor took any notice of us whatever, till quite close; when a fellow from the poop-deck shouted out in French,—bad enough it was, too,—desiring us to keep close till the sea went down a bit, and then to send a boat to them. Sacristi!there was no more about it than that; and they made a prize of us at once.
“But our captain was not one of that mould, and he answered by beating to quarters; and just as the 'Blanche' swept past, up flew our ports, and eight carronades threw in a fire of grape along her deck that made them dance to the music. Diable! the fun was short, though. Round she came in stays like a pinnace, down helm, and passed us again; when, as if her sides slit open, forty guns flashed forth their flame, and sent us a broadside that made the craft tremble again, and left our deck one mass of dead and wounded. There was no help for it now. The clear water came gushing up the hatchways from many a shothole; the craft was settling fast, and so we hauled down the ensign and made the signal of distress. The answer was, 'Keep her afloat if you can.' But, faith, our fellows didn't care much to save a prize for the English, and they would n't lend a hand to the pumps, but crossed their arms and stood still, waiting for her to go down; when what did we see but two boats lowered from the 'Blanche' and dropped into the sea, which was then running mountains high. Feu d'enfer! they don't know where there is danger and where not, these English; and that's the reason they seem so brave! For a minute or two we thought they were swamped, for they were hidden entirely; then we saw them on the top of a wave, balancing, as it might be; and again they disappeared, and the huge dark swell seemed to have swallowed them. And so we strained eyes after them, just as if our own danger was not as great as theirs; when suddenly a fearful cry for'ed was heard, and a voice called out. 'She is sinking by the head!'
“And so it was. A crash like falling timber was heard above the storm and the sea, and the 'Torch' rolled heavily from side to side, and then plunged bowsprit down, and the boiling surf met over her. There was a wild yell; some said it was a cheer; I thought it like a drowning cry,—and I remember no more. That is, I have a kind of horrid dreamy remembrance of buffeting in the waves, and shaking off a hand that grasped me by the shoulder, and then feeling the water gathering over me as I grew more and more exhausted. But the end of it was, I came to my senses some hours after, and found myself in a hammock on board the 'Blanche,' with twenty-eight of my comrades. All the rest—above two hundred and fifty—had perished, the captain and the officers among them.
“The 'Blanche' was under orders for St. Domingo, and was in no way anxious to have our company; and before a week was over we were drafted into a small sloop of war, carrying eight guns, and called the 'Fawn,' She was bound for England with despatches from Nelson,—one of their English admirals they 're always talking about. This little craft could sail like the wind, but she was crowded with sick and invalided men from some foreign station, and there was not a place the size of a dog-kennel on board of her that was not occupied. As for us, we were only prisoners, and you may think they were n't very particular about our comforts; and so they ranged us along under the bulwarks to leeward,—for they would n't spoil her sailing trim by suffering us to sit to windward; and there we were, drenched to the skin, and shivering from day to dark.
“Four days went over in this way, when, on the fifth, about eight o'clock in the morning, the lookout announced several strange sail in sight; and the same instant we perceived the officers setting the glasses to observe them. We could remark that the sight did not seem to please them much; but more we knew not, for we were not allowed to stand up nor look over the bulwarks. The lieutenant of the watch called up the commander; and when he came on deck he ordered the men to cram on more sail, and hold her head a point or so off the wind; and as soon as it was done, the rushing noise at the cutwater told the speed she was making through the sea. It was a fine day, with a fresh breeze and a nice curl from the water; and it was a handsome thing to see how the sloop bent to the gale and rose again, her canvas white as snow and steady as a board; and we soon knew, from the manner of the officers and the anxious looks they 'd give to leeward from time to time, that another vessel was in chase of the 'Fawn.' Not a man stirred on the deck save the lieutenant of the watch, who walked the quarterdeck with his glass in his hand; now lifting it to his eye, and now throwing a glance aloft to see how the sails were drawing.
“'She's gaining on us, sir,' cried the boatswain, as he went aloft, to the lieutenant. 'Shall we ease her off a little more?'
“'No, no,' said he, impatiently. 'She's coming handover-hand now. Clear the deck, and prepare for action.'
“My heart jumped to my throat as I heard the words; and waiting until the lieutenant's back was turned, I stole my eyes above the bulwark, and beheld the tall masts and taper spars of a frigate, all covered with canvas, about two miles astern of us. She was a good-sized craft, apparently of thirty-eight guns; but what I liked best about her was the broad tricolor that fluttered from her masthead. Every curl that floated on the breeze whispered liberty to my heart.
“'You know her?' said the lieutenant, laying his hand on my shoulder, before I was aware he was behind me. 'What is she?'
“'Lend me your glass, Lieutenant, and perhaps I can tell you,' said I; and with that he gave the telescope into my hand, and leaned on the bulwark beside me. 'Ha!' said I, as soon as I caught the side of her hull, 'I ought to know her well; I sailed in her for two years and a half. She's the “Créole,” of thirty-eight guns, the fastest frigate in our navy; she has six carronades on her quarterdeck, and never goes to sea without three hundred and twenty men.'