"Away, boarders!"
Certain of the men left their quarters at the guns, and cutlass and pistol in hand, led by Jones himself, swarmed over the rail and on the poop of the Juno. Two or three men were standing there among the dead and wounded men, half dazed by the sudden catastrophe, but they bravely sprang forward.
"Do you surrender?" cried Jones.
"No, you damned rebel!" answered the foremost, in the uniform of an officer, crossing swords with him gallantly; but in a moment the sword of the impetuous American beat down his guard and was buried in his breast. With a hollow groan, he fell dying on the deck of the ship he had so gallantly defended, while his men, borne back by the determined rush of the Rangers, after a feeble resistance, threw down their arms, crying, "Quarter, quarter!"
All this time the guns of that ship had been firing, one or two of them depressed by Simpson's orders so as to pierce the hull below the water-line, the rest sending their heavy shot ripping and tearing through the length of the Juno, which was unable to bring a single gun to bear in reply.
"Do you strike?" called Jones, from the break of the poop, his men massed behind him for a rush through the gangways, to one or two of the officers who were stationed there.
"Yes, yes, God help us," cried a wounded officer; "what else can we do?"
"Where's your captain?"
"Dead, sir," answered one of the seamen who had been seized by the boarders. "Him you killed when you boarded."
"Poor fellow, he was a brave man, and fought his ship well."